The End Of Days
by BruisedBloodyBroken
Summary: Sam!30, Dean!34, UNRELATED!WINCEST. Dean's on a case since a couple of months. When Kevin has a vision, Dean takes off and comes across a hooker who calls himself Morgan (Sam), who's going to be the next on the demons list. top!dean, bottom!sam, ratedMforAreason, love!story, porn, bunker!fic, post!apocalypse, hunter!minorHURT!dean, hooker!creature!majorHURT!sam, featuring!castiel
1. Chapter 1 Of Angels, Demons And Men

**TEASER**

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Okay … so, I've no idea where this is going to lead (like always)

I've done a lot of research about some stuff and came to the conclusion that it doesn't fit. So I've made up my own lore (like always)

**This story is somehow different from those I've written so far. The characters are different, they are acting different. - Just let me tell you: Dean's going to be a real dick in the beginning. But he won't be forever ;) it's wincest. Make love not war ^^**

_SPN~_

**WARNINGS**: unrelated!wincest; hunter!minorHURT!_dean_, hooker!(kind of)creature!(kind of)blind!majorHURT!(maybe suicidal)_sam_, (probably)graphic!violence, graphic!sexual!content!ahead, featuring!theBUNKER!_kevin_!_castiel, _(maybe)_crowley_(but I'm not quite sure yet), rated!M!for!a!reason, drug-abuse(pot)

SPN~

**SUMMARY**: Sam!30, Dean!34, UNRELATED!WINCEST. Dean's on a case since a couple of months. All across the US people in their 30's get ripped to shreds by demonic pit bulls. When Kevin has another vision, Dean takes off and comes across a hooker who calls himself Morgan (Sam), who's going to be the next on the demons list.

SPN~

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own the characters or Supernatural in general, I do own the plot-idea though, there's **NO BETA** for this story (yet)

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_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 1 ~ Of Angels, Demons & Men**_

_The History Of Creation_

A long time before god created men, there reigned a battle on earth. Angels and Demons were fighting over god's creation.

Angels and Demons …

… they weren't more than dust in the wind. Two host-less armies created by the one big force that had brought them life.

Before the BIG WAR, one of his sons rebelled against him – against GOD. Rebelled against his father's plan to create another being. Something that would be so vulnerable, so tender … so breakable … and though he demanded from his sons and daughters to watch over them. Wanted them to treat them like the precious beings they were meant to be.

But his son wouldn't agree with his father's desire. Ever.

So he got cast down on earth with all those who followed him – and that's how the war began. So many casualties on both sides. - The angels, who obeyed their father's orders. And the fallen ones, who'd fight against the rise of a new race on earth.

There was just one thing: Neither of them stayed dead for long. They rose from their deathbeds again and so the war carried on for thousands of years.

Until their father couldn't watch his son's and daughters fighting each other anymore. So he created a new place. A place for the fallen ones, who had disobeyed so badly. Who had disappointed him the most among his creations.

God created HELL, where his disobedient children should suffer a thousand deaths for their betrayal.

God saw, that his sons and daughters who had fought for his plan had died a thousand deaths. And he thought that these deserved a special place - close to him.

So god created HEAVEN, where his brave children should regain their strength for the task before them, where they were supposed to find their redemption.

But as so often things got awry.

As mighty as god was, he wasn't able to force all of the fallen ones down into hell. So it was with his other children who wanted to stay on earth – _so bad_.

So god sent one of his sons – Gabriel – on earth to collect them and bring them to his father for the final judgement.

He gave his son a vessel. A vessel that owned the form of his new creation.  
Gabriel was looking for his sisters and brothers and for those who had fallen. He sat up a trap and lured them into it – as much as it hurt to betray his siblings … he had no other choice, did he?

When he had called them, had let them know they were allowed to stay or wouldn't be cast down like the others, he sealed his trap.

A hundred long nights and days he thought about what he was supposed to do. Eyes like liquid amber stared into the star-filled sky above him, praying for a solution.

When he returned to his brothers and sisters, he didn't believe what he was seeing inside the invisible barrier of his trap. The bright blue and dark-reddish beings that were once his siblings - and had turned into what they had been over years of war - had fused and become one.

A completely new creation, something his father surely wouldn't allow to exist.

So Gabriel saw just one way to safe them. He banned the new beings into a bottle and took them with him, vanishing from his father's and the earth's face.

God thought his son had died in the course of his duty. That somehow he hadn't survived and had taken the fallen ones and the betrayers who refused to return to heaven with him.

Heaven grieved, honoring their brother's actions.

Hell rebelled, demanding to get their freedom back.

But god didn't listen.

_He created men._

As millions of years went by and the human race developed, god saw that his creation was going to destroy what he had built up. He saw anger, betrayal, corruption and envy in a wold where just love and peace should've been reigning.

In shame and doubt about his abilities he left.

But before that, he rose a hand full of the fallen ones whose souls had become darker as the night itself. Those would bring pain and fear over the humanity – and maybe they would finally SEE.

He then opened the gates of heaven, telling his daughters and son's to watch over humanity. Picking out the good ones, that deserved to find redemption. While they were supposed to leave the already tainted ones for hell.

As the years passed by, the angels rarely remembered their father's orders. They rarely remembered what he had looked like … what he wanted them to do …

That was when Gabriel returned to heaven, unseen by his brothers and sisters. He returned to give THEM freedom, give THEM hope as it was lost for all the others.

He emptied a bottle into the_ lake of souls_, giving those of his sisters and brothers a chance to make it better than the others … He wanted them to live a life, to have a real chance to do what they wanted to. He wanted them to be _free_ …

* * *

_The New World_

He sat in one of the wooden chairs and studied the map that was integrated in the surface of the table before him. Everyone of the ten red dots showed one of the victims he had tried to save so bad. Every red dot showed one more failure. One more life Dean Winchester hadn't been able to save.

The hunter had been too late to save them – each time. Students, a mechanic, a faith-healer, a psychic, a gardener, a teacher … All of them innocent and with as good as no criminal or mysterious past. No reasons why demons would want to have exactly these people out of their way – or wanted to have drag their souls downstairs. Since it looked like hell-hounds had come for them, Dean had tried to find leads. But there were just dead ends. None of them seemed to have made a crossroads-deal ten years ago …

No leads why demons should send their_ pit bulls_ after them. - Pit bulls, because Dean was still sure that it were hell-hound attacks. Though … somehow it didn't make any sense to him.

Not even Castiel was able to tell. He took him to one of the victims, so he could have a look at the corpse – but even with his angel-abilities he couldn't tell what might have been so special about them.

The victims had been humans. - Normal humans. Hell, they haven't even got psychic abilities (except those who pretended to own them, like the faith-healer and the psychic of course).

After each and every one of Kevin's visions, Dean had researched and based on the pictures Kevin had seen, he had found their locations in no-time. The last one – a gardener – had been barely alive as he arrived at his house. The man had been a bloody mess and had been left to die in between roses and broccoli.

And now he had to wait. - Wait for Kevin to have another vision. Four weeks had passed since the gardener's death now and there had been nothing else yet.

So to say: Dean was more than just agitated.

In the meantime he tried to find a lead what tied the victims together (for the hundredth time). But hadn't found anything yet (like always).

Castiel sat on the opposite side of the table, in the hippie-clothes he loved to wear since the great fall. His eyes bright blue like before – just his manner was a different one. With his cut-back grace he wasn't the angel he was used to be back then.

He had changed. - They all had changed. Life had become harder, now that the survivors knew about monsters and demons … and the _virus_.

So much things had changed after Castiel had locked down the angels in heaven to get their shit back together. So many things had happened since the croatoan-virus had raided the world. So many people had been infected back then – over night. Just like that.

But they didn't disappear, as they had been when he and Castiel had been where the demons had run their little project. A small village somewhere in nowhere. Back then the whole towns-people had vanished afterwards – over night. There was nothing else left except their houses and vehicles.

But now? Now Dean felt like in zombie-apocalypse.

People were infecting others. Many of them had been eliminated – as long as the marines and the navy kept the overhand. But then … lets say, everything went down from there, since they figured that risking their life for ungrateful brats wasn't worth it. Though – the ones who „lived" long enough looked like „real" zombies now. Rotten meat on two legs, clawing and biting their way through the world.

Gladly there had been hunters. Hunters who knew more as anyone else about these beings and what their purpose had been. But now? Now it just seemed like the demons had given up their plan with the virus … or it was part of their_ wiping-humanity-from-the-face-of-earth-plan._ No one knew. Neither did the demons, Dean had interrogated.

Hunters who still cared about the living, who didn't stop fighting the evil in the shadows, made their way through the US, trying to protect and save as many as possible.

Now the smaller towns and villages were abandoned.

The big cities were alive. People went there – and in case they got through, they were able to have a pretty nice life. Without electricity mostly anyway. Though some people managed to get a hold of generators, some towns even had found a way to get the electricity running again.

As much to say: not a lot humans were left. Whatever lucifer's plan had been … he had won. Wearing his little brother Adam for prom … who now was on lockdown in the cage with that filthy bastard called the devil.

Dean didn't like to think about the time back then. It was horrible to watch his brother jump … with no hope that he'd be able to get him back. No spell. No deal. _Nothing_.

So he carried on – more or less. He had thrown himself into the hunting-business after a year of alcohol, sex and pot. It hadn't been nice. Not a little. Most of these days went by in a blur.

Now – four years later – Dean hadn't touched marihuana or alcohol again. At least he hadn't touched the alcohol in the same extend he had used to. The only thing that remained was the sex. After a job was done, he picked up one of the hookers, paid them for a whole night either with money or silver-rounds … and well yeah.

That was about it. No feely-thouchy stuff. No responsibilities. No pain. Pain of losing someone he loved.

„Thinking much?", Castiel rose his voice with a serious expression on his face – all innocence gone after these years.

„Old stuff.", Dean gave back with a sigh and leaned back in the chair. „Ya' know ..."

Castiel nodded. „You know I could go with you, Dean.", he said after a while. „Help you …"

The hunter looked up, both eyebrows furrowed and took in his friends features closely. He meant it. „It's too dangerous … you're not ready." He sniffed. „Besides ..." A grin tugged on his lips – only his lips. „You're stoned as hell."

Castiel chuckled amused and threw his head back, looking at the ceiling and back at his hunter-friend. „When am I not stoned?"

The hunter shook his head with a deep sigh. The angel was right. When was Castiel not stoned?

* * *

A pained scream echoed through the bunker, letting Dean and Castiel in their rooms shoot up from their night's rest in an instant. Before another cry could follow, Dean was in the corridor and on his way to Kevin's room, short followed by his angel-friend. They burst into the room at the end of the corridor, their look snapping towards the bed, where the kid sat upright, holding his head with both hands. His eyes squeezed shut, his fingers tangled his black hair, as he rocked forth and back.

The hunter knew better than trying to snap him out of it. It was a vision. A vision with informations they'd need probably. Instead Dean sat down beside him, wrapped an arm around the kid's shoulders and held him close.

„It happens again.", the prophet muttered. „It's a man ..." He sucked in a deep breath as the pain seemed to subside. „Tall. Not older than thirty-five. Long brunette hair. Eyes like the stormy sea ..." Kevin blew out a shuddering breath and inhaled another deep one. „A whore ..."

Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise, not used to a verbal expression like this from the young man. He shared a short glance with Castiel who stood beside him.

„It's night. - There are others with him. They're on the street. - A strip. A car stops, someone calls for him … He gets into the car … Detroit. It's in Detroit – I can see a river … They pass a museum – motown museum. The driver takes him to a motel in town. - The Iron Lantern. He's a hooker … The man's a hooker. Damn it … it's gonna rip his heart out … it's gonna kill him." Kevin's breaths became more erratic, he spoke faster ….

„Who, Kevin? - Is it the driver?", Dean asked impatiently. „Kevin, is it the driver?"

The prophet shook his head frantically. „It comes for them … in the room … It's gonna kill them both … The shadows are coming for them." He was panting heavily by now, drops of sweat forming on his forehead.

„It's okay, kid." Dean looked up at his angel-friend. „_Get the painkillers._", he mouthed and Cas gave him a short nod. „Great job, Kev. - Just hold on. - Cas' gonna be back in a little with your pills."

The kid nodded, as he tried to calm his breathing down.

Dean settled him back on the pillows and watched him with a slight frown, as Kevin curled up into a small ball.

„You're gonna save this one, do you?", Kevin muttered with closed eyes, „You can be there in time if you go now."

Dean bit his lower lip and nodded pensively. Torn between staying with a hurting friend of his and saving the life of someone he didn't know. Though – Saving a life won, because Kevin would be alright. That was his job, right? Hunting things, saving lives … „Did you see what it was?"

Kevin shook his head and blinked an eye open, glancing at the hunter. „Just shadows … and claws … I … I don't know, man. - It were just flashes again ..."

Dean placed a hand on Kevin's shoulder and nodded with a sniff. „When you're better, tell Cas what you saw. - Maybe he can find something about the thing." … because he still had his doubts about the hellhound-theory. Hell hounds hadn't shadows.

He was afraid that it'd be something way more dangerous and sneaky … Daevas.

Kevin nodded. „And let the guy know that he shouldn't do this to himself."

Dean gave him a nod and got up from the bed, as Castiel reentered the room with a glass of water and a bottle of pills. „He's a _hooker_, Kev. - Probably since years. I don't think that he'll give up what he's doin' just because you think it's not good for him. These people chose what they are – to survive. Like everyone of us." And with that the hunter was out of the room and aiming for his own to grab his already prepared duffel from the closet next to the door.

„I didn't mean the hooker-thing ...", the prophet muttered under his breath.

* * *

One hour later Dean Winchester was on his way, flooring the gas-pedal.

…_... to be continued_

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**thought I'm starting off with the teaser a bit earlier ^^**

**…. just so I see HOW BAD you guys want me to continue posting this ^^**

**BACON? PEANUTBUTTER-CUPS?**


	2. Chapter 2 Morgan

**THANK YOU to all who REVIEWED, FAVORITED & FOLLOWED so far.**

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_A/N: like I said … remember: Dean's gonna be a real dick at the beginning. Though it won't last. He's going to get all cuddly and sweet & stuff. Because it's WINCEST. _

_Make love, not war!_

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_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 2 ~ Morgan**_

THEN:

_Dean gave him a nod and got up from the bed, as Castiel reentered the room with a glass of water and a bottle of pills. „He's a ____hooker__, Kev. - Probably since years. I don't think that he'll give up what he's doin' just because you think it's not good for him. These people chose what they are – to survive. Like everyone of us." And with that the hunter was out of the room and aiming for his own to grab his already prepared duffel from the closet next to the door._

„_I didn't mean the hooker-thing ...", the prophet muttered under his breath._

* * *

_One hour later Dean Winchester was on his way, flooring the gas-pedal._

* * *

NOW:

It wasn't hard to find the strip after passing the gates into Detroit.

Guards, armed to the teeth, were watching over the ones who wanted into the town and out of it. Barbwire seamed the walls to their feet and high up on their tops. Mostly snipers held their stances high above the heads of the arriving folks. No walker came closer than a hundred feet to the town's gates.

One of the less save havens out there …

Hell, it had been just so easy, since _these_ people were the only ones – besides the guards – that were on the streets at this time of the night. (And of course those who were interested in the offered merchandise on and around the strip.)

Now he just had to be lucky enough to find the tall man among all these lost beings. Men and women. Some younger as they should've been to do this job – to offer their bodies to every possible nutcase that wasn't able to get laid in a usual way.

But that was how life was. Some still had to do THAT to survive on the streets – now more than ever.

Dean saw a hand full of men and women that would've been right up his alley. - But that wasn't what he was here for tonight. Tonight he was here to save a life, or even two … And maybe – when his job was done – he'd come back and pick up someone …

There wasn't a lot of choices though. At least not what Dean was looking for tonight. He drove the Impala slowly along the curb, checking out the hookers closely. Kevin's description didn't fit on a single one so far.

Until his look fell on a tall guy, leaning against a wall, one knee bent and the foot braced against the wall. The dark jacket, wich seemed to be made of leather, fit the man perfectly. Like it was made for him – _just him_. He stood there and seemed to check out the slowly passing cars and pedestrians …

That was when their looks met and the serious expression on the man's face changed. The corners of his lips curled up into a soft smile and he pushed himself away from the wall as Dean slowed down further until the Impala stopped.

* * *

Sam took the car in closely, but it was too dark and the street lamp was in a too awkward angle to relieve more from the driver as his silhouette. The man had stopped and if he wasn't completely mistaken this could be a job for him. One that'd last longer than five minutes - hopefully.

He had three so far. Fast blowjobs around the corner – but this one. Maybe he'd have a jackpot right in front of him. If the man would take him to a motel-room (or if they'd stay in the car) … maybe he'd be able to give that guy more than just that. Sam hadn't earned as much as he should have tonight (and the past ones). The business went down slow lately and he needed the money or some silver or even brass. Needed to at least reach his lower limit, to keep his place on the strip.

Most of all he had to pay Hank, otherwise it'd get nasty for him.

Sam didn't live that bad on the streets. He had a roof over his head and was able to buy food and water … more as he had bargained for in the beginning when he came here.

* * *

Dean watched the younger man in jeans, a tee and the dark leather-jacket, approaching. Dean cranked the passenger's window down and leaned over, waiting for the man to arrive.

As he did, Sam bowed down and flashed one of his brightest smiles - despite the bitter cold. A dark bang of hair fell into his face, as he bowed down further, getting a better look at the driver.

A flash of concern crossed his face as he realized to whom he was going to talk and offer himself to. - Better said: What the guy's _business_ was … Sam had learned pretty fast about what was out there in the night and its shadows. And he even sooner had learned to know that there were people fighting the monster in your closet or under your bed. - Even before everything had went south four years ago.

_So yes. _Sam partly knew how to protect himself from monsters and walkers. He also knew how to outrun troubles with this kind of men – _hunters_.

This one had to work out nonetheless. He needed the money (or whatever he'd get for ...) and the guy might was his only job tonight. At least the only one that meant real good and a lot of money (or so).

Sam didn't have much of a choice and hunters mostly meant kinky jobs and silver. - Maybe he'd be lucky and could spend a couple of hours in a warm room … in a warm bed even.

„Wanna take me for a drive, hunter?", Sam asked with low voice and bit his lower lip, not breaking eye contact with the other man. Sure, the hunter's eyes were just … WOW. He didn't look bad anyway. Trained and with smooth skin. - Then again: All hunters were trained …

Sam tried to check as much from the insides of the car out as possible. He knew that most of the hunters were common people with common needs. But as all other civilians, they also could have their kinks. - Real kinky kinks. BAD kinky kinks, that could hurt pretty much and knock you out for a couple of days.

Something Sam couldn't use right now.

Hunters had a lot more in their duffels than other people. They carried along weapons and some of these men or women were close to psychopaths and pretty messed up. Wouldn't be the first time one of them got off on blood-play or pet-plays. What didn't mean that it were just hunters that got off on that. Of course not. Sam just noticed that these people were just more … dangerous when it came to that sort of stuff.

Something someone like Sam had to be aware of in this line of business.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the young man. „How much do you charge?"

Sam smiled seductively. „Depends on what you want me to do." There was a challenging glint in his eyes, not passing unseen by the hunter.

Dean sucked in his lower lip in and bit down on it – hard. This guy would've been right up his alley wouldn't it have been for the job he was on. Wouldn't it have been for the fact, that exactly THIS GUY was his job.

„I've hundred-fourty bucks. Silver-knifes, brass. - What can I get for it?", Dean asked. Though he knew he didn't have to put on his charm, he did it anyway. As long as he paid for it, the hooker would do close to everything for him.

Besides, it wouldn't hurt anyone if he at least tried to be friendly with them. Specially when the man wouldn't get what he promised him.

Dean hadn't hundred-forty bucks. He owned two silver-knifes and one made of brass. Nothing he could've shared. - But the guy would survive it. - He'd save his life. That'd be more worth than hudred-forty dollars, silver or brass anyway, wasn't it?

„The whole night. - Special conditions for hunters." Yeah, Sam had indeed to be lucky. He'd reach his minimum of what he'd need AND would get a warm room and a bed to sleep on tonight. - IF the guy would him let get some sleep … in a bed.

On the other hand: it didn't really matter if he would be allowed to sleep or not since he hadn't have that much luck the last night … and the nights before. - He needed the damn money, no matter what it'd probably cost.

A wide grin spread over Dean's face. „Fine. - Jump in. My room's just a couple of blocks away."

Sam did as he was told, to fancy about the fact that he would get a warm place to spent time that he forgot to ask the man to show him his charge before he'd jump in.

When the younger man was seated in the passenger's seat and had fastened his seat-belt, the Impala's engine roared up and Dean pulled back onto the street. He stole a couple of glances at the hooker while they drove. This man wasn't just handsome … he was one hell of a guy. One he could've gladly spent more than just one night with – just for sex of course. Because Dean Winchester didn't do relationships. He didn't do chick-flicks and fluffy-cuddly stuff.

So he shoved the affection he felt towards the man behind the great walls of denial in his mind and focused back on not driving his baby against a wall.

„So … what's your name?", Dean asked, wondering if he ever had a hooker on his passenger's seat he didn't intend to bang.

Sam looked at the driver, noticing the bright green eyes as another vehicle passed them on the oncoming lane. The hunter wasn't bad-looking and he seemed to be CLEAN. - Not the greasy old men he usually had to let his pants down for.

„Do you have a name?", Dean asked again.

Sam nodded and sucked in a breath, trying not to get taken under by his memories. „Yeah. - Sorry. My name's Morgan."

„I'm Dean.", he answered and flashed the younger man a smile, as he pulled up in front of the motel and eased his baby into one of the parking lots. „Look. - I've to check in. Might as well you're waiting here?"

Sam gave him a short nod.

„Just don't touch anything.", the hunter warned and put on a serious expression that promised pain if he'd do so.

„Yes sir.", he said, strains of concern building on his face. The man hadn't have a room yet. What meant that either he was going to have a job in town, or that he was just passing by. Or he was one of the psychopaths who loved to torture, rape and kill whores … Then again: The hunter wouldn't book a room if he intended to, would he?

Maybe the guy hadn't have money … maybe he was a serial killer … or worse … one of those bloodsuckers that used to square the guards to look away when they sucked one of the hookers from the strip dry.

Sam should've demanded to see the charge before getting into the car in the first place. He felt a lump building in his throat, as the hunter turned around in front of the office and looked towards Sam.

The hooker weighted his chances. The man hadn't locked the car, so he had still a chance to get away. - But then (if the guy went back on the strip to pick someone else, or even look for him …) he couldn't go back to his place on the curb. The guy'd be angry … and Sam would be screwed.

Then again … he'd pick up someone else of his „co-workers" … and if the guy truly had hundred-forty dollars with him, he would be screwing himself.

A moment later, Dean was back and knocked with his flat palm onto the hood of the car and in the very next moment the passenger's door opened.

Sam looked up at the guy in the leather-jacket and frowned at him, before he got out. An uneasy feeling spread through his guts and made its way up to his throat. He swallowed hard and eased himself out of the car, holding the other man's gaze.

No … he didn't look like a psychopath … but then again: _When did psychos ever look like psychos?_

Dean pulled his duffel-bag from the back of the Impala and led his company towards their room. Sam stayed back a couple of feet, watching the man before him warily.

Dean felt the hooker's eyes on his back.

_What had he gotten himself into?_ - On the other hand: _What did he really had to lose besides his crappy life? _

Dean pushed the door open and threw the duffel on the giant bed in the middle.

They had no electricity but gladly there were candles all over the place – and the hunter had a flashlight in the duffel – just in case.

Sam enlightened the candle on the nightstand and one on the small table.

Dean pulled out a can from the duffel and went for the windowsills and the door.

„I'll get cleaned up while you're warding the room …?", Sam asked hesitantly, trying to hide his insecurity. Showing weakness could mean death these days – or worse. - Hell, he was a professional – so he should act like one too.

Ever since the apocalypse, things had changed and had gotten so much worse … specially for the men and women that were working in Sam's line of business.

„Sure. - Knock yourself out.", Dean muttered while he lightened one of the candles on the windowsill, not baring a single look at the other man. Dean was too sunken in the task at hand and thinking about how he was going to talk about what he needed to talk about with the hooker. - At least the man didn't seem stupid or something, so he sure would get the bigger picture.

Short fifteen minutes later, Sam came back out. Wearing nothing at all … NOTHING at all.

Dean, who was sitting at the table, turned around as he heard the door close, and his jaw dropped at the sight of a couple of feet before him. „Oh ..." _Yes_, words and in general the english language were gone as soon as the hunter's gaze fell at the naked flesh. The man would've been a good fuck … All toned muscles and tender looking skin. Yeah, he looked a little bit skinny for his height, but not that bad at all. Dean had seen worse looking whores.

But this one sure as hell was worth the money (he reminded himself that he didn't have, nor wanted to spend).

Even in the pale light the hunter was able to see the hooker's hazel-green-colored eyes glistening.

„So … How do you want me?", Sam asked, his voice trembling. He still wasn't sure if it had been a good idea to get into the car. Maybe – IF the guy was a psycho and he would play along – he'd get out of the room unharmed.

Sam knew about the hunters abilities. He KNEW he wouldn't stand a chance in case it wouldn't go down as planned. Further on: No one would cry over him if he vanished. Hell, no one would be looking for him. No one would ask where he was gone … he was just a hooker. _A whore._

This was one of the many times, Sam remembered himself of how much he was actually worth. Not more as his ass could take - _in fact._

Dean stared at him, his mouth slightly agape, before he was able to get his senses back together and he reminded himself that the guy was _his_ job and not that he was the _guy's_ job. That there'd be no sex tonight. Even when his lower department obviously thought otherwise and his jeans seemed to get a little bit tighter … _too tight._

So the hunter cleared his throat and took a deep breath. Trying to clear his thoughts … „Well … maybe … - Look. Thing is … I'm not really interested in sex … _not_ tonight."

Sam's eyes went wide in disappointment and instantly covered his private parts with his hands. A flash of disbelieve crossing his features. Then another range of emotions played across his face. Until the hooker's look stayed blank as he stared at the hunter.

„And I'm sorry … but … I actually don't have hundred-forty dollars with me. I've no silver or brass I could possibly give you. - In fact I've about fifty in my pockets and I'm willing to give them to you, if you get dressed again and sit down with me ..."

Sam frowned, panic driving its claws into him. _What the hell had he gotten himself into? Holy fucking shit of hell. _

„Okay, Morgan?" Dean eyed the man warily. Awaiting something – anything. - At least the hooker looked like he'd be freaking out any moment now.

Sam nodded. „So … fifty bucks?", he asked hesitantly and sucked in his lower lip. … at least it'd be more than he would've gotten anyway tonight. At least he'd be able to pay Hank for his place and maybe the pimp would be satisfied with what he had to give … Might as well he'd have the chance for another job when he was back at his place on the strip. - So it wouldn't be that bad … hopefully.

„Yeah, fifty bucks.", Dean answered.

Sam looked down on the carpet and back up at the man on the chair. „For doing what?"

„For telling me about you ...", Dean said then, „Your childhood, who you really are MORGAN ..."

Sam swallowed. No wonder this guy had to get on the strip to pick up someone. Obviously he was one of the sickest bastards out there – getting off on kids-stuff … _holy shit_, suddenly Sam started to feel nauseous …

Whatever. He had to stay cool and focused. He needed to come up with something the guy wanted to hear … before he'd get angry and would gut him, or even worse: cut his face. It was all about merchandise and with a scar in your face you were less worth on the street …

He'd give him a story that'd thrill the guy enough to leave the fifty bucks and maybe he'd get him back on the strip afterwards … if he was able to satisfy that weirdo.

Hope died last … Sam wasn't sure if he'd be able to do that … since that would be – even for him – LOW.

Dean gave him time to think about it … As long as the hooker was with him, nothing would be able to kill him – at least he thought so.

_And oh_, how wrong he should be about that.

Sam withdrew into the bathroom and hurried to get dressed. The sooner he got over with it, the sooner he was able to leave … as if this day hadn't been weird enough already.

The feeling of being watched ever since he had left his room in the abandoned apartment-complex. Shadows that seemed to appear and disappear without a reason around him … The whispers he thought he had heard …

When he was done, he went back into the room. For the first time he got aware of how dark the room _really_ was. That there were just three lightened candles. The duffel-bag remained where the hunter had dropped it on the bed. That there were dark stains on the carpet-floor (or shadows. - Sam didn't want to know that exactly it was anyway). There was a nightstand on either side of the big bed and a small closet on the wall behind him, right beside the door that led into the bathroom.

His client still sat at the table. Now there were also two beers standing there – both sealed. There were two sealed bags with beef jerky and a spray can with cheese zip and a pack of crackers.

„Take a seat, Morgan.", Dean said without turning around, after the younger man would just stand in the room for a couple of minutes.

Sam did as he was told and sat down on the opposite side of his client at the small table, leaning back as casually as his fluttering nerves would allow. Because damn it … THIS was weird. - They could've been done by now.

Now – all of a sudden – he didn't want to stay in a warm bed anymore. He had no need to get a couple of hours sleep in a heated room … He just wanted to run and get away from that guy. As fast as possible.

Dean leaned back in his chair, the fingers of his right hand drumming on the surface. „So ...", he started, „I know that you suppose that I'm some sick bastard that gets off on your screwed up childhood." He paused with a deep inhale. „Wich you might had or not had." The hunter's expression went serious, his eyes cool. - Driving a chill down Sam's spine as he watched the muscles in the hunter's jaw work.

Somehow he was surprised that the man knew what he thought …

„Fact is: I'm a hunter and I'm actually hunting SOMETHING. - It's dangerous and it's ripping people to shreds. That's why I'm here. That's why you are here." He cleared his throat, locking his gaze with the other male's, making sure he had his attention. „It's after you, man. - And I'm here to figure out _why_ before anyone else dies."

Sam gave him a short nod.

„This thing hunts humans all over the US. And as it is: You're the first victim I was able to find alive ..."

The hooker rose both eyebrows, a dull feeling spreading in his stomach. He cleared his throat silently and tilted his head to the side. Was this guy fooling around with him?

„Okay, you got me hooked." Sam leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. If this was some kind of role-play … he might as well play along. „Why would SOMETHING want to kill me? . I'm a hooker, a _whore_. I spread my legs for everyone who pays me. I suck cocks, I let others fuck my ass – and hell, if they pay me enough I also let them cut or beat me. - So why would something like to kill ME?"

Now Dean was stunned. He hadn't awaited that the guy would speak that openly about what he was doing.

„I don't know ...", the hunter said then after a while. „I figured you could tell me. - Something I won't find anywhere else. Because I think that's the whole point. These people had some kind of secrets … Why else would the same thing kill especially these people? No matter wich race, what job, where they live … The only thing that ya'll have in common is that non of you was older than thirty-five."

Sam watched the man closely, trying to figure out if he could believe the words he just heard. He watched the muscles in the hunter's neck and jaw work, watched his lips twitch.

Because IF he believed the man's words, he sure as hell was worse than just screwed. He was dead. Screwed and dead at once.

„Fity bucks you said?", Sam needed to be sure. - Because if the guy was just crazy and nothing would come for him, he'd need the money to survive Hank.

Dean gave him a short nod. „Fifty. - And all you can eat ...", he pointed at the table.

„Okay … so … what do you want to know?", Sam asked hesitantly. „Besides: I'm not touching anything of this, but thanks anyway."

Dean shook his head with a sigh. „It's sealed.", he said. „If I would've wanted to knock you out I would've done it by now ..."

Well, the hunter had a point. - He haven't had a beer since … EVER. So might as well it was worth the risk.

„Besides … you look like you could use some food, man." Dean rose both eyebrows, glancing down at Sam's lower exposed arms, where the jacket had slid up a little bit. Seeing that they the bone of his wrist stood out a bit too much.

„You sure you want to share that with me?", Sam asked then, trying to hide his confusion.

The hunter gave him a short nod and a faint smile. „It wouldn't be here If i wouldn't want to. - So go and knock yourself out. Eat as much as you can."

Sam eyed the things on the table curiously. „Maybe a beer wouldn't be bad ..."

Dean snapped with his fingers and uncapped the two bottles of beer with his lighter. „Fantastic.", he muttered to himself.

Step one – _accomplished_.

Sam reached for it and took it out of the hunter's hand, eying it suspiciously. He then nipped on the bottle and closed his eyes for a long moment, letting the taste sink in and wash over his mind.

„So … was there anything weird in the past couple of days? - Something that wasn't as usual?", Dean asked and took a swig himself.

Sam opened his eyes and watched the shadows of the candle dance on the wall opposite of him. „Yes. - I felt watched …" He looked at the hunter, who seemed to listen closely. „Other than that … - Nothing besides _you_."

„Nothing? - No shadows? … you know … weird things you thought you saw but weren't there? Like smelling sulfur or rotten eggs? - Something like that?", the hunter asked.

Okay, that drew Sam's attention. _Shadows_. The expression on the younger man's face changed from slightly amused into serious and kind of worried. „There have been shadows. - But these are everywhere aren't they?" Sam sat back up and took another swig from the beer – a bigger one. Trying to act unimpressed and unbothered by what the hunter was asking. Might as well the guy was truly working on a case. „It felt like they were following me …", he muttered to himself and stared into empty space before him, then he looked back up at the hunter. „Is that possible? - I mean … shadows are just shadows, aren't they?"

Dean shook his head with a deep sigh and stood up, walking over to his duffel and pulled out a thick file, wich he took back to the table. He then sat back down and laid it out before him, taking out a stack of pictures. Pictures Dean had collected from the „_crime scenes_".

Nowadays these kind of murders weren't even filed if it wasn't for the hunters interests. - There were no authorities left. At least not that kind everyone had known like the police … Most of the guards and patrols that were on the streets out there were volunteers and those who needed to pep up their egos. - At least the Winchester thought so.

Sam looked up and cocked an eyebrow.

Dean held the pictures in his hands for a moment longer, then he placed them before the hooker, eying him closely.

Sam's gaze fell on the first picture and he frowned. It was the photo of a woman – not older than him. Long blonde hair, blue eyes … the picture was wrinkled on its edges.

„One of the victims?", Sam suspected and looked up for a moment to catch the hunter's gaze.

Dean nodded and leaned back in the chair, watching the hooker watching the pictures. „Do you know anyone of them?"

Sam took in every single picture closely. - There were also pictures from the corpses – or at least what was left of them … He then shook his head. „No, should I?"

Dean shrugged and his eyes narrowed. „Are you sure? - Doesn't anyone of them look at least familiar?"

Sam shook his head again – pensively. „No … I can't remember that I have even seen one of them … I'm sorry." He put the stack of pictures back together and laid them before Dean. „These people look like regular ones … - Why would someone want them dead?"

„_Something_.", Dean corrected him. „I don't know … that's why I'm here."

Sam frowned and shook his head. „I'm sorry man. - I can't help you with that." He looked at the hunter with a _are-we-done-look_.

„It'd be saver if you'd stay with me. - Just until this is over, _Morgan_." Dean tilted his head to the side.

Sam chuckled nervously and shook his head. „I can't. - I've to go back or I'm loosing my place on the strip. - Not to mention Hank if I'm not able to pay for him this time …"

Dean's frown deepened and a flash of concern ghosted over his face. Just for a moment. Too short for the hooker to notice. „So … you're working for someone?"

Sam nodded, his amusement fading slowly from his face. „He's not that bad. - He's just a guy you don't wanna piss off two times in a row."

„You're not save out there ...", Dean mentioned.

Sam's gaze fell on the table. „We're never save, hunter."

„You could die.", he added urging.

„And if I die then it's fate.", Sam gave back with a soft smile and sad eyes.

Dean blew out a frustrated sigh. „I can't let you leave. - You're in danger."

„Who cares?!", Sam burst out. „It's not like anyone would miss me. - When I'm gone others will follow. There won't even pass a night before my place on the strip is given to someone else."

„Is there nothing else you could do? - You don't look stupid, Morgan." Okay … Dean didn't know why exactly he had said that … but then again, wasn't he right? „You could help us out with the case. And when we're done with it, we're looking out for a room or apartment somewhere else?"

Sam looked at the hunter as if he was the weirdest, craziest and most insane guy in the world. „Why the hell would you care?"

„Because it's my job.", the hunter answered angrily.

Sam stood up from the chair, shoving it backwards with his legs as he did so. He glanced at the half-full bottle of beer and then at Dean. „Thanks for the beer. - But if you don't mind … I need to get back on the strip."

Dean also rose from his chair and shook his head with a frustrated huff.

„Keep it.", Sam said and rose a hand. „Keep the money, hunter." With that he buttoned his leather-jacket closed and took a step towards the door.

The candles flickered and the room seemed to become slightly cooler in the very second. Both men stopped in their tracks and froze. Dean reached for his gun instinctively, which he kept snug between his waistband and the small of his back.

Sam glanced back over his shoulder towards the hunter, sharing a look with him. The very next moment his attention snapped towards the wall, where his shadow showed and made a step backwards as the thing started to deform and move.

„So you're sure there's something after me?", Sam asked quietly, his voice trembling.

Dean stared at the shadow as it morphed into a way dangerously silhouette with fangs and dangerously long claws.

„Daevas ...", the hunter hissed and glanced at his duffel. He needed to get there, needed to dig out one of the flash-bangs … „Shadow demons.", Dean muttered louder so that Sam was able to hear it.

„What the hell?", Sam made another step back, away from the monster before him.

„My duffel. - There are grenades in there. The first one of us who gets there's going to pull the damn splinter and throw it. - Then cover your eyes.", Dean explained with low voice.

Sam nodded frantically, his gaze glued to the monster that was building up before him on the wall. „Anything else we could do?"

„Run." In the same second the hunter took off towards his duffel.

In nearly the same moment the Daeva's shadow flew over the wall and Dean got yanked from his feet into the wall behind him. With a grunt he landed on the floor, all air knocked out of his lungs. „Son of a bitch!", he cursed and fought to get back on his feet, sucking in a wheezing breath.

In the meantime Sam was digging through the duffel, putting it upside down and splattering its contents all over the bed. Another demon appeared with long claws behind Sam's shadow, slashing its claws through Sam's tender meat on his shoulder and down over his chest. With an agonized yell he sank backwards, as he felt a pulsating warmth saturating the fabric of his clothes. Moments later he got flung across the room against the bathroom-door.

The flash-bang fell from his had and scattered over the floor, getting to a stop just a couple of inches before the Winchester.

Another agonized yell and the second demon lingered over Sam's shadow on the wall, lifting its paw for the final stride.

„Got the wrong guy this time, bitches.", Dean hissed and pulled the splinter from the grenade, throwing it into the middle of the room.

In the same moment he took a giant leap, taking the hooker down with him and covered the man's body with his own, as he buried his face in the floppy mop of hair.

A glairy light flooded the room the very next moment. Agonized hisses and high-pitched cries echoed through the walls and out into the night, letting the guy in the office look up frightened.

…_... to be continued_

* * *

_aww, c'mon folks, don't leave me hangin' ^^ :) _

_keep me goin' with your reviews ^^ i'd LOVE to know what you're thinking of it so far ... now that there are close to 10k (words-count)_


	3. Chapter 3 Blind

**TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: suicidal thoughts & attempt **

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 3 ~ Blind**_

THEN:

_In the same moment he took a giant leap, taking the hooker down with him and covered the man's body with his own, as he buried his face in the floppy mop of hair._

_A glairy light flooded the room the very next moment. Agonized hisses and high-pitched cries echoed through the walls and out into the night, letting the guy in the office look up frightened._

* * *

NOW:

As the cries died in the definite darkness of the room, and the scent of dead candlewicks filled the air, Dean Winchester rose his head slowly and blinked his eyes open. The hookers head cupped in one of his hands, and the other one resting on the man's side beneath him.

It took the hunter a few moments to regain his senses and another couple of moments to realize that the daevas were dead (hopefully). Or at least gone for a while.

„Damn it.", he cursed with a grunt, as a slight throbbing pain in his head and aching ribs made themself noticeable. He groaned as he straightened himself up some more, trying to figure out where in the room they were and in what direction the bed was.

He needed to find the flashlight and check on Morgan. The wounds had looked anything but good. Maybe they'd needed a doctor – or something close to a doctor. He traced his hand down over the man's head to find his neck, where he rested his middle and index-finger over the pulsating artery under his skin.

The man's pulse was fast and not easy to feel.

„Morgan.", Dean choked out and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he rose and staggered sidewards. „Oh shit ..." _Yes, that was definitely a concussion_. Dean swayed a little and opened his eyes again. He needed the damn flashlight like yesterday.

So he tentatively moved his legs to his right where he suspected the bed to be. „Jackpot.", he muttered and started to feel along the edge until he had his hands in the middle of the scattered contents of his duffel. When he finally found his flashlight he switched it on, rushing back to the hooker's side and squat down.

„Hey. - Morgan.", he muttered, laying his hand on the man's bicep. „C'mmon man." Dean turned him on his back, feeling once again for the man's pulse, while the beam of his flashlight wandered towards the blood soaked fabric on the hooker's shoulder and chest.

„No you won't.", Dean let out a range of curses. „I need you a little bit longer than this ..." He then ripped the fabric apart and cursed again at the sight of the deep slashes in the man's shoulder and chest. Indeed he did need the man longer. - He needed to know more about his past – there might be a lead or connection to the other victims. Something that could save others from the same fate.

„Fuck it.", he muttered and checked the man's pockets for a wallet. If he couldn't wake him, and if they had enough money (if he counted his own and the hooker's together), he would need to get him into a hospital …

It wasn't like Dean wouldn't be able to stitch him up himself. Only thing that worried him was, that the guy'd need to be stocked up on fluids due to the rising blood-loss. And that fast.

That was something he couldn't do here – besides: he didn't carry the needed medical supplies around.

Further: The hooker would need antibiotics and painkillers, because Dean would surely SO NOT share his own stock with a guy he didn't even know. Not with a man like him. Wouldn't it have been for the damn fact that he needed him some time longer, he would've put a bullet through his skull to release him right there.

So hospital it was (if they could afford it).

A little bit surprised about finding Morgan's wallet in the back of his jeans, he pulled it out and shone in it with his flashlight. He was rather surprised that the man carried a whole lot of cash with were silver-leaves and gold-leaves, carefully covered in transparent foil, held together with a paperclip inside. He also had some silver- and brass coins.

Many gunsmiths bought that stuff to mix it under iron-rounds these days. Sadly it didn't help much, since shapeshifters and werewolves didn't drop dead due it. They got poisoned and if they didn't remove the bullet they'd die. Though it could slow them down immensely ...

It'd definitely reach for the standard-treatment and some antibiotics and painkillers – maybe they even could keep him in for a night or two for that … But Dean would see what they were charging at the hospital and would decide then what to do further.

* * *

It had been torture to get mister gigantor from the floor of the motel-room into the passenger's seat of his baby. Though he seemed to be not as heavy as Dean had figured he would be.

Finally on their way, Dean kept a close eye every now and then at the man beside him. Morgan was unconscious. Either from blood loss or the goose-egg on the back of his head. They NEEDED a real doctor. Dean didn't want to lose his only lead. He couldn't afford to lose the only surviving victim he could ask questions about the case that might could save a lot of others …

It was just about ten minutes later, when they arrived the nearly empty parking lot in front of the hospital. - The building was guarded like Fort Knox in his old days. Guards and volunteers to hold the only live-saving source, virus-free, within the next two hundred (or more) miles.

Dean jumped out of the car and jogged around, where he opened the passenger's seat. He then pulled the tall guy out of the car and shouldered him in a firemen's carry before they were able to make their way towards the main-entrance.

Two of the guards went for them, their weapons aimed. „What do you have there, buddy?"

Dean stopped – panting. „Demon-attack." He tried desperately to catch his breath. „Winchester – I'm a hunter." He sucked in a deeper one so he could get out the rest of what he wanted to say. „I left my patch in the car ..."

One of the men nodded and both let their weapons down. One of them then hurried to the hunter's side and helped him with the unconscious man.

Finally reaching the hall, they laid the man on one of the empty gurneys and wheeled him into the emergency area where just one single nurse (in civilian outfit) sat behind the counter in the barely illuminated, empty hall. Her attention instantly snapped towards the arriving men.

After the guard gave her a short _it's-okay-nod_, the nurse jumped up from her seat and called for a doctor with an old radio-device.

Dean panted, bracing himself against the gurney, as he took in the pale man's face. „He got clawed up and hit his head pretty bad.", he explained to the nurse that was about to take the hooker's vitals.

A sleepy looking female doctor in scrubs turned up short later, jogging towards them.

„I'm sorry sir … But before we start ...", she said hesitantly as she looked at the wounded man and back up at Dean, her hand slowly findings it's way under her sweater-vest, where she carried a holster.

„Silver- and Gold-leaves.", he said before the woman was able to continue, or even think that he attempted to rob them. „Silver- and brass coins."

She gave him a short nod and went to the front end of the gurney, letting one of her hands rest on the gun. „Lets get him into examination room two."

Dean jogged after them in the corridor, when the doc and the nurse took a rough turn into room two. Years ago Dean wouldn't have been allowed to follow. But times had changed. They were different. Now relatives often went with them into the examination rooms and _helped_. So would Dean if he'd be able to save this life. If he would be able to get more answers and hints about the demons.

Actually he didn't feel very concerned about the man himself. It was more about the fact that if he died, he would lose yet another victim. A fact that scared the Winchester a bit, since he had always cared about others before caring about himself.

Now things were reversed. He didn't just kill monsters anymore. He also killed humans when he had to.

The doc and the nurse started to work on the hooker immediately, while Dean stood a couple of feet away, watching them closely.

First they got the man out of his blood-soaked jacket and shirt, then they cleaned him up carefully. The doctor ordered the nurse to get two bags with saline, medications and the big aid-kit. When the wound was disinfected they started an I.V. and stitched him up nicely.

„Is he gonna make it?", Dean asked casually.

The female doctor rose an eyebrow at the man and blew out a deep sigh. „Blood-loss is for sure one of his bigger problems. Besides the risk of an infection of course.", she answered then. The dark-haired doc bit her lower lip and felt for the goose bump on the hooker's head carefully. „Our CT isn't running – needs too much power. I could do an x-ray though ..."

She glanced warily at the hunter, who eyed her closely. „How much?" Dean didn't exactly know why the hell he even asked. He knew they wouldn't be able to afford it.

„I'd have to charge hundred-fifty-two for an x-ray ...", she explained shyly. Her gaze dropping to the floor. „I'm sorry, mister." She sniffed and pulled off her gloves. Then she rubbed over her nose. „He sure has a concussion, but I can't tell if there are any other internal injuries … no x-ray would show them either ..."

Dean gave her a short nod. „You said he's suffering from blood-loss?"

She nodded. „Yes. - But I think that we'll be able to keep his fluids stable with the saline-drips. Besides we don't know his blood-type ..." She took a deep inhale and blew it out again before she continued. „BUT. I can keep him here until tomorrow night. He'll get his three meals streight – if he'll be conscious until then. AND I can have a close eye on him."

Dean nodded pensively again. This wasn't what he had wanted to hear … Nor what he hoped for.

„For now we'll take his vitals every half an hour, check on his temperature and we'll get the first two shots of antibiotics and painkillers into him through the I.V.", she explained further. „Is he a family member?"

Dean huffed and shook his head, slightly amused. „He's a witness. - The only one I can ask about the things I need to know ..."

The doctor nodded again. „Sarah's our night-shift. - So … if something happens or if he wakes up, you call for her and she'll call for me."

Dean gave her another nod and a small smile. „Thanks."

It was a pity that nowadays they weren't even able to check over injured people like they were used to years ago. The doctors (if there even was one in the hospitals) couldn't do any more than guess when it was about internal bleedings. When people had enough money they would also cut into them and try to fix things as good as possible if they had a suspicion.

So _yes_. If you were badly injured you were damned to die. No ambulances that'd pick you up. Doctors and nurses that'd just touch you if you had enough money (or whatever they charged nowadays) with you … This world was a mess. Sometimes Dean wondered, when they would stop charging money at all and would start to trade against food and other things …

Somehow humanity was holding onto as much of the civilisation as they had known from older days. - Outside the towns, people lived mostly autharkic and traded things with others to get what they didn't have. So did Castiel. He changed fruits and vegetables from his green house (wich he had discovered short after they had moved into the bunker), for flour and eggs from a guy not too far away from their lair. The guy's name was Miller. Jordan Miller. He lived at the farm with his family. A wife and four kids … the fifth on its way …

It wouldn't last long until the people in the cities would be about to starve and would have to think completely different.

Anyways. Nothing of that was the Winchester's problem. He had Castiel, Kevin and the Bunker. He had Bobby in Sioux Falls. They had a full storage with tins and cans. Hell, they had a whole lot of cheese in cans too and dried meat in bags. They had Cas's green house, stuffed full with plants and marijuana.

What'd Dean give for fifteen minutes with a bacon-cheese-burger … and pie. Holy hell … cherry-pie or apple-pie … anything that was named pie.

With a deep sigh he slumped down in the chair beside Sam's bed and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling.

* * *

It didn't last long until the hooker regained conciousness and was greeted with pain … and more pain … and darkness.

_Complete darkness … _

A soft moan tore Dean from his much-needed sleep. His eyes snapped open in an instant and he sat up in the chair, his eyes darting at the man on the hospital-bed. As he moved a little bit too fast, the ribs of his left side sent a stabbing wave of pain through his torso that made him wince.

„Morgan?", he asked silently as if he could wake up someone else around.

The man on the bed stirred and lines of pain settled over his face.

Dean looked at the nearly empty saline-bag above their heads and eyed the other one, wich the nurse had left on the bedside-table with two different vials and a syringe.

„I'm sorry, kiddo. - No fun-stuff for ya' yet ...", Dean muttered and inched closer with the chair towards the bed.

The younger man squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to remember what happened, where he was and why the hell his eyelids felt too heavy to open them. His lips felt dry and at least as disobedient as his eyelids at the moment.

But he heard. He heard a man's voice. A questioning voice … And he wanted to answer. Wanted to ask … but all that came out was a pained groan.

Dean frowned, not knowing exactly what to say … he actually didn't know the guy. Didn't know what to say to make him fight. What did a _hooker_ had to fight for anyways?

Actually Dean Winchester had never thought about that … had never thought about hookers the way he started to now. These people made you feel loved and as if you were something special. Sure you had to pay for it. But for your time being you were their king or their queen. They mostly didn't just let you fuck them … some of them were able to give you so much more than just satisfying your needs.

Dean had never thought about the way the people in this kind of business might felt …

„It's alright, Morgan. - Just relax.", he said then after a while, watching the man fight for conciousness. „Just … just take your time, man."

After exhaustion claimed him all over again, Sam let himself being dragged back into darkness …

Dean watched the man some more time as he had settled down again and shook his head pensively, before he leaned back in the chair, blowing out a breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding.

Eventually the hunter fell asleep again too.

* * *

When the nurse came into the room, Dean jerked awake from the noise of rattling crockery and flatware on a plate in the nurse's hands.

She wore a tired smile on her lips, her blue eyes dazed with sleepiness and her long blonde hair was quite messed up as if she had just gotten out of bed.

„Breakfast for our sleeping beauty over here ..." She smiled tiredly and sniffed, placing the tray on the bedside-table.

Dean nodded at her his thanks and rubbed over his eyes. „Excuse me ...", he muttered hoarsely. „Is there any place I can get a breakfast for myself?"

Sarah nodded, but she didn't smile anymore. „There's a Starbucks one block over. - But the guys who own it now don't take money … They're collecting silver ..."

He murmured something and gave her another nod, too tired to even say a word that early in the morning. His stomach was rumbling badly at the sight of the hooker's food right in front of his nose.

Sarah turned away and was about to walk towards the door as she stopped and turned around with a soft smile on her lips. She took Dean in, wearing a grateful expression in her eyes.

„You know … that's real nice and kinda sweet of you ...", she said hesitantly, her look darting in between the man on the bed and the hunter.

Dean looked at her utterly confused for a moment.

„You … and _him_ … - It's nice to know that someone cares about people_ like him_ too.", she explained silently. „Not everyone would do that ..." Something like hope flickered up in her big blue eyes.

Dean sighed and rubbed over his face, not really thinking about his next words. „He's a witness. - I need to know about some things and he's the only one who's able to help me with it … so … I kinda have to watch out for him ..."

Something in the nurse's expression changed and if Dean wasn't completely mistaken it was sadness … and deepest disappointment. As if he had destroyed something essential deep down in her soul with his words.

She blinked a couple of times and bit down on her lower lip before she turned around and left the room without saying anything else.

The hunter looked at the hooker again, his look blank for a moment, before a range of emotions played across his face. The woman was right … no one cared these days about someone else. At least not about those outside of your family.

So yeah … these times had also changed Dean in more ways than he would've wanted to admit. He didn't care that much about collateral damage anymore. Hell … the hooker here was just some kind of tool to him so he could save others … People who'd be kind of more _worth-fo-being-saved_.

Maybe he should remember what he was like, before all of this had happened. Somehow he had gotten emotionally cold and dismissive. It was more enjoyable to kill the beast, instead of saving the life of a human.

He just didn't care as much anymore as he had done before …

* * *

Dean had went out to the Starbucks around the corner to get some coffee and something that looked like biscuits in exchange for a broken silver-coin from Sam's wallet.

When he returned, the day shift had obviously arrived and there were no tracks anymore from the nurse that had been there over night. There were three now, standing at the counter and were chattering about something as Dean passed them.

Someone grabbed him by the bicep and held him back. The hunter looked over his shoulder and gazed at the nurse confused, who gave him a serious look

„Wouldn't go in there. - His pimp's here. Guess they have an open bill.", was all she said. Her voice calm and serious.

Dean glanced at the shut door and back at the nurse, cocking an eyebrow.

„Is that so?", he asked and glanced back at the door from where a loud voice was heard.

She nodded. „Better not get in between a pimp and his hooker. - Could get out of hand ..."

„What about the guards?", Dean asked frowning.

The nurse gave a huff and shook her head, as if Dean had made a bad joke. „Went for breakfast when Hank came in. - He's practically reigning the district.", she explained silently. „No one wants him as an enemy, boy."

„Is just _Hank_ in there?", he asked then.

The nurse nodded.

Dean cleared his throat, letting the woman's words sink in. He looked at the other both who stared abashed to the ground. Then he placed the bag with his biscuits and the coffee on the counter and eyed the three for another moment.

„That'd better be here when I come back.", He said warningly and took off towards the hooker's room just a couple of feet ahead.

* * *

Sam sat at the edge of the bed, listening to his pimp's ray of bitching. When he paused he finally had a chance to speak up for himself. „I'm sorry, Hank. - I … I'll get it back, okay? I'll pay it in about a week, okay? … Just … just give me some more days to get the money together."

Hank huffed and brushed his long strands of blonde hair back behind his ear. „In _your_ condition? - You're a dead man, Morgan. All I want is the money you're owing me.", he yelled angrily. „And then get off of my strip. - There's no use of you like this, dammit."

Sam swallowed hard, fighting nausea and the throbbing pain in his head. Fighting the white dots that danced before the darkness of his wide open eyes. „I don't have the money. - Just … just give me a chance, okay?"

Without forewarning the pimp grabbed Sam's hair and pulled him off of the bed. Instantly Sam's knees started to buckle and he sank to the floor. Wouldn't it had been for Hank's strong grip in his hair, he would've crashed to the floor without being able to catch himself.

Sam winced and grabbed the hand that held him up roughly.

„Please ...", he begged, pressing the arm on his injured side against his body. „I can do that. - You could use me in the club … don't you?"

The pimp snarled and his lips creased in disgust as he let go of Sam's hair. „There's no use for a blind guy. - No one wants to be fucked by someone who doesn't even see what he's doing. - All I want is the money, kid."

Sam shook his head, trying to shake off the dizziness, as he felt his heart speed up. „I don't have it anymore …"

„Bullshit!", Hank yelled and lunged out with his clenched fist.

* * *

Dean stopped for a moment, with his hand on the door-handle and his eyebrows furrowed. He listened for a moment to the growing yelling of the foreign voice inside and then something hit something else with a loud thump. All he had been able to hear was something about _money_ and _where it is_ and_ if it was freakin' worth it _…

That was when Dean threw the door open and stopped in the doorway, staring at the picture before him in disbelieve. He hadn't thought that someone could be possibly taller as Morgan … but damn, this Hank was one giant hulk – just less muscular … and not green …

The pimp stood over the hooker in a threatening pose. His long blonde hair falling in soft curls down over his shoulder-blades.

He glanced over his shoulder, spotting the intruder and gave him a hateful snarl. „Fuck off, or you're next.", he hissed and hovered back over the man to his feet.

„Says who?", Dean asked calmly and took a couple of feet forward so that he was able to close the door behind him.

The hooker laid in a crumbled heap on the floor, one arm thrown over his head protectively, his legs pulled up to his chest as if to prevent his ribs and stomach from being hit.

„_The Boss._", the guy hissed and shot another glance over his shoulder. „That's _private_."

In the very same moment as the pimp lunged out to grab the man to his feet by the hair again, Dean leaped forward with a bed-pan - he had grabbed from the cupboard to his right - and hit a blow on the back of the pimp's head, who crumbled down into a huge heap on the floor.

The hunter threw the bed-pan onto the bed and straightened up with a satisfied grin on his lips.

„That's for telling _me_ to fuck off … _never_ tell a Winchester to fuck off … ", he muttered and took a big step over the giant. „You okay?", he asked Sam, who lurked up behind his bangs. „Morgan?"

The hooker pulled his arm away and stared through the hunter above him. „Dean?", he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

Dean pulled a set of handcuffs from his back-pocket (don't ask why he carried them around with him … he in fact had his reasons) and hurried up to get the pimp chained to the iron part of the bed-end.

„Did you see any other bad-ass hunters around that place?", he asked with a cocky grin and he extended his hand towards the hooker.

A faint smile ghosted over the younger man's face. „Didn't expect you to come back … thought you were gone ..."

Dean chuckled. „Hunters need to eat eventually.", he reached further down, his hand close to Sam's face now.

But he wouldn't grab it. The hooker just stared through it … and something dawned in the back of the hunter's head.

Dean frowned and his eyes narrowed. „You okay?"

The hooker cast his look down with deep creases on his forehead. „I'm kind of … not able to see at the moment.", he muttered. „Maybe you could just drop me off on the strip? - So … so I can get my stuff?"

Dean pulled his hand back and sniffed. „So … you're telling me you're practically blind? - And … that I should drop you off on the strip without you seeing anything? Dude, you can't even cross a street right now, ain't ya?"

Sam propped up on his arms, the stitches of his injury pulling painfully at his flesh. „Ain't none of your business, hunter, is it? - I'm gonna get some of my stuff and hit the road to … _somewhere_ else ..."

Dean looked at the guy in disbelieve. „How do you think you can go … _somewhere_ else? - You're probably dead before you'd even be able to find ya' way out of town, kiddo." _… had to be the painkillers talking, or Morgan had hit his head harder as he had thought. _

Sam got awkwardly back on his feet and wiped with the back of his hand over his mouth, brushing away the blood from his lower split lip. There was also forming a dark bruise on his right cheek-bone.

Sam's legs were still trembling, but he felt able to take a few steps and sit back on the edge of the bed.

„Do you have any relatives?", he asked then with a worried frown, somehow admiring the hookers determination.

„No ...", Sam muttered and shook his head, bracing himself up on the bed, so not to topple over. „... there's no one left ..."

The hunter glanced back down at the unconscious pimp beside him with a deep sigh. „Did you talk to a doc already?"

Sam shook his head.

„Don't you want to know if it's temporary or … permanent?", the hunter asked confused. The man seemed to take the news pretty well at the aspects of his way too serious situation.

„How are they supposed to tell?", Sam snapped at him and bit down on his lower lip – hard.

„Sure.", the hunter muttered to himself and blew out a deep sigh. „Tell you what … - I'll get you back to your appartement, we'll gather some of the things you need and I'll take you with me, okay?" He wasn't quite sure if this would be a good idea … but what was he supposed to do? He needed the guy, had some more questions … AND he couldn't leave him out there like this. - He wouldn't survive a day in his state. „I've … a cabin in the woods. - It's a safe place ..." … there was no way he'd tell the guy about his honest destination – the bunker. Besides it wouldn't matter, would it? The man wouldn't be able to SEE where they were heading.

Sam frowned and looked in the direction where the voice came from and added in his thoughts: _Where no one's gonna hear my screams, huh?_

„Okay …", he said and shook his head at the same time. He needed someone who'd take him to his apartment. He needed someone who'd show him the way.

He hadn't imagined his end like this, but he had no other choice did he? He was useless to himself like this. He couldn't stay because of Hank and he couldn't leave because of his medical condition. So he'd do what he promised himself he'd do if he stood before a decision like that. If it was about a short and halfway painless death or about suffering. And Sam sure as hell didn't want to suffer … He knew about his chances of survival out there in his condition – so it'd be just a matter of time.

The door to the examination room opened slowly and one of the three nurses lurked inside through the small gap. Her gaze fell on the man who lay in an awkward angle on the floor, handcuffed to the bed. Then she looked at the hunter's back, and then opened the door a little further so she'd be able to snatch a glance at the younger man on the bed.

„Hey!", she called out silently.

Dean turned around baffled and cocked both eyebrows at the small woman.

„Got something for your friend.", she whispered silently and held her hand with a bundle of fabric out through the gap.

The hunter frowned at her for a moment before he went to get what she had to offer and gave her a thankful nod.

„I'll get his meds ready. - You go and get him dressed and out of here. Don't take the main-entrance, some of Hanks men just got here.", she hurried up speaking as she glanced over her shoulder. „Lisa's keepin' them busy for the moment …"

Dean's eyes widened and gave her another nod then. „Thanks, ma'am.", he muttered with a small smile.

„Nothing to thank for. - Just hurry the hell up, hunter.", she winked at him and disappeared, closing the door carefully.

* * *

Short after the same nurse was back, with a paper-bag, the coffee and the bag Dean had left on the counter, they were ready to take off. The hunter thrusted the bag with the meds in one of Sam's hands. He then gave the bag with the biscuits into Sam's other hand and slung the taller man's arm around his neck to help him walk. The nurse held the door open and gestured down the corridor, telling them how they would get back to their car in front of the hospital without crossing their way with Hank's men.

Dean then grabbed the coffee and they started to make their way down the corridor. As they heard men laughing and heavy footfalls wich couldn't be from the nurses, Dean sped their pace up a little.

The hunter stopped at the outside and let Sam catch his breath for a moment, who was now heavily panting and sweaty from the effort it took him to keep up the pace, Dean set.

The hooker was pretty wobbly on his feet, not to mention that he couldn't see anything. So Dean took the lead again and guided him to the Impala, where he helped him into the passenger's seat. He then hurried around the car and slid behind the steering wheel, doing nothing lovelier than leaving as fast as possible. Hank would be pissed as hell when he'd wake up with a goose egg on the back of his head and without his hooker.

Sam let his head rest against the cool window, holding the two bags in his lap, while he stared into nothingness.

Dean glanced from time to time at the hooker in his passenger's seat. Relieved that the man was alive and speakable. But worried about his physical condition since he wouldn't be able to just kick him out of the bunker as soon as he knew everything he needed to.

„My apartement is two blocks behind the strip in an apartment-complex. There's some ivy growing up on the ladder beside the main-entrance. Second floor, apartment 27a.", Sam said silently as he continued to stare out of the window with a blank expression on his face.

Dean nodded and licked over his lower lip. He didn't have to take care of too much traffic, since there weren't a lot of cars left that were ridable. Neither were a whole lot of people around the streets, even in bright daylight.

Only at night, when the hookers came out onto the strip and when their needy clients joined them - this part of the city roared back to life – somehow.

„You take the main-street, on the second crossroad you turn right and drive her into the second alley to the left then.", Sam added after a long time.

„You sure you have no relatives? - It's not a biggy, I could take you to them, kid." Dean couldn't hide the hint of pity that swung with his words.

„No. - There's no one.", Sam answered again.

„How could you know?", Dean asked then. „After the crash ..."

„Because I live on the road since I'm fifteen, hunter. - So trust me when I say that there's no family.", Sam answered coldly, hoping that he'd shut down the conversation with it.

„Fine.", came back, rather convinced.

* * *

They made it to their destination earlier than Dean had thought. He also had found the alley and the fire ladder with the ivy at the first try. When he turned the ignition and the roar of the Impala died, Sam straightened up in the seat, laying his hand on the door handle.

„Wait ...", Dean said hesitantly. „Why don't you wait here and I get your stuff packed. - It'd be faster and easier ..."

Sam's head snapped towards him. All the glistening sparkles in his eyes from the past night gone. „I'm coming with. There are some personal things I'd like to take with me."

„Okay ...", he gave back with a sigh and got out of the car and rounded it.

While Dean walked in front of him, Sam placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, following his very move not to bump into something or someone. But it sounded silent in the complex and Sam wondered for a moment if they truly were in the right one.

They made it onto the second floor, with Sam stumbling occasionally up the stairs when he didn't get them right. But Dean was there every time to catch him before he could hurt himself further. When they finally opened the apartment-door with the key Sam had given to the hunter in the car, Sam was panting again and looked utterly exhausted.

„Thank you.", Sam muttered and flashed the hunter a short small smile, as he tentatively walked past him.

The apartment didn't seem like there was someone living in there. It looked more like a place to sleep than to live. It didn't seem like there was water, Dean had noticed, when he saw water-bottles beside the door. He watched Sam carefully as the younger man took a sharp turn into a room to his left.

Dean rubbed over his face and sighed deeply, walking slowly forward. It was dirty and … _greasy_ … and so not like the bunker. This place was worse than a prison. The walls seemed damp, the wallpapers were partly gone or ripped off the walls. Because of the lack of electricity there wasn't even a way to lighten up the small corridor, that seemed to lead into another room on its end.

He walked further and rounded the corner into the room where Sam had gone. Even if the guy wouldn't say it, he sure as hell would need help to get his stuff packed up.

It obviously was the room where the hooker used to sleep – Dean had to conclude as he saw the mattress on the floor wich was covered with a bile of blankets and two rotten pillows.

If he wasn't completely wrong he could also hear rats … or something else crawling inside the walls.

A shiver ran up Dean's spine. No one should have to live that way … but he knew that there were plenty of people out there that haven't had another choice.

His gaze fell onto the form that stood before a closet between two big windows, with the back towards him. Morgan was holding something in his hands – at least it looked that way.

Then the hunter heard a too familiar noise … a click and a clack … the noise of when he took the safety of a gun off. And then a silvery gleaming piece of metal appeared in the hooker's right hand, wich he rose to his head.

Sam's lips quivered. He hadn't thought that it'd be _that_ difficult. He thought it was just about pulling the trigger. But the knowledge that it'd be final, that if he wouldn't aim right, that he'd bleed out – painfully … But did it really matter? It wasn't the worst way to leave this world. Hell, he could get ripped apart or fall into the hands of ghouls or vampires out there.

It'd be better than going with the hunter and ending up as some sex-toy or pet. He had heard enough to know that something like that _could_ happen. And Sam knew one thing: He didn't want to end _like that_.

He wouldn't take a chance.

If the man'd take him to the cabin … and it'd be a mistake … he'd be lost, in the hands of a stranger who he didn't know, who could do everything to him … _with_ him. Maybe the hunter was a psychopath after all …

Hell the guy could turn him around five times and he'd be lost in the room he had lived in for the past couple of years.

So _yes_, this was the only thing he could do, the only thing that'd guarantee that he wouldn't starve to death. He'd control it, he'd end it.

Dean gulped down a yell, as he saw the hooker pointing at his own head with the barrel. Instead he narrowed ever so silently from behind, praying that he'd be there before the man would pull the trigger.

Dean watched the shaky hand wich held the gun in a vice-grip. The hooker was uncertain of what he was going to do … Probably he didn't know what he wanted at the moment. But Dean understood. He'd put himself out of his misery if he thought it'd be better for that way. - Specially with a stranger by his side who could be EVERYTHING.

When Dean stood behind him – so close their bodies nearly touched – he slowly laid his hand over Sam's in wich he was holding the gun.

The hooker tried to flinch away, attempting to take a step backwards, but he bumped into another body.

„I know what you think.", Dean whispered calmly. „That's why you were so calm in the hospital, weren't you?" He sighed deeply and guided the gun slowly down, until Sam let go of it and Dean put the safety back on. „Tell you what: You come with me. - You tell me everything about you. Help me to figure out why these demons want certain people dead … and then … then I'll let you do whatever you want to, okay? - Just help me save some lives."

The hooker shook his head violently for a moment, then he let it hung. Tears gathered in his eyes and dared to break like a damn dam.

Dean laid his hand on the man's good shoulder and squeezed it gently. „Help me to save those lives and I'm going to get you the stuff to make it right. - You won't have to pull a trigger. It'll be like falling asleep, Morgan." He couldn't believe himself of what he was saying right there to the man.

But Dean Winchester knew that for someone with a disability like _this_ … „But until then, Morgan … until then you're going to be under my watch. - Me and my friends will take care of you, okay?"

„Why would you do this?", Sam asked trembling, wrapping his long arms around his middle.

„To be honest?" No, the hunter didn't think about what he was saying. „Because I need you to figure out why they kill those people. - You're my only lead. You're the only one who can help me with this ..."

Somehow it hurt. . It hurt, that the hunter just wanted to stop him from killing himself, because he NEEDED him. Because he wouldn't be able to figure out why they were after them – after him. It hurt, that no one cared about him because of who and what he was. He was a nobody. A hooker. Just a whore who wouldn't be missed. And now that he didn't see anything (what in fact wasn't completely true) anymore (no matter if it was temporary or permanent) … he was so much less worth now.

It hurt that he felt like he wasn't even good enough to be fucked anymore. - At least he had got any use out there … and now?

Now he could at least save some lives, if the hunter was telling the truth and _that_ wasn't quite as bad. He could do something good at least … before he'd say goodbye to this world.

„You promise? - When I told you everything about myself, you'll do it? You'll give me something to fall asleep?" Sam looked back over his shoulder. If he'd been able to see the hunter's emerald-green eyes, he would've caught them streight away.

Dean gave him a short nod as he chewed on his lower lip and looked aside for a brief moment. Thinking of what he just had offered to the younger man and something like guilt flared up deep down in his heart for a moment.

He had offered him to help him killing himself … Now Dean wasn't sure if he really wanted to do that, even if the guy might stay handicapped. Then again … maybe the blindness was just temporary and his sight would return in a couple of days … „I do.", he said then silently with regret ont he words edges. „If you still want to pull it off then, I'll do."

Sam nodded and sniffed, swallowing back a sob and closed his eyes for a moment. „I do have your word?", he asked again – just to be sure that the guy wouldn't leave him to the monsters out there.

„You have my word.", he stated and tugged the man's gun in his own waistband.

„Thank you.", Sam muttered, blinking tears away.

„So … we should hurry. - Your pimp won't be happy when he wakes up." The hunter cleared his throat and glanced at the makeshift bed ont he floor. „You tell me what you wanna take with you and I'll get the stuff." He then paused. „You've a back bag or a duffel somewhere around?"

Sam nodded. „In the closet on the bottom. - A dark-brown leather-bag-pack."

Dean guided the hooker then towards the mattress and let him sit down on it. He then went to the closet and got the bag-pack. Sam told him what he wanted to take with – what actually wasn't much.

There was a picture Sam wanted. A picture of a young couple, but definitely they'd be way older by now. The hunter guessed that this had to be the man's parents … He then gathered some of the clothes and the pair of flip-flops that stood beside the mattress.

Sam then told him to take the food with, that was hidden under a false bottom of the closet. Four dozens cans and tins with ravioli, mac & cheese and peaches.

When they got everything, Dean shouldered the bag-pack and the duffel on one shoulder and steadied Sam with his other arm, as they made their way back to the Impala. The hunter then helped the younger man into the passenger's seat before he tossed the bag-pack and the duffel into the trunk.

…_... to be continued_

* * *

_first of all: I AM SORRY FOR MY SPELLING MiSTAKES. English isn't my first language. _

_though I hope you're enjoying the story so far. _


	4. Chapter 4 The Bunker

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 4 ~ The Bunker**_

THEN:

_Sam then told him to take the food with, that was hidden under a false bottom of the closet. Four dozens cans and tins with ravioli, mac & cheese and peaches._

_When they got everything, Dean shouldered the bag-pack and the duffel on one shoulder and steadied Sam with his other arm, as they made their way back to the Impala. The hunter then helped the younger man into the passenger's seat before he tossed the bag-pack and the duffel into the trunk._

* * *

NOW:

Sam thought. He thought of how to push the pain away. He thought to forget ... Sam thought of how fast it could happen. How fast everything could be lost within moments.

_He was blind. _- Well ... not completely blind, but that was something the hunter didn't have to know, did he? At least not YET. If he could call it "_not-completely-blind_" anyway. It was weird – it looked _weird_. And it felt ... _different_.

Sam was able to SEE the walkers on the fields beside the road and though ... he was _not_ able to see them. It was like he _saw_ what they carried inside. It was like he _saw_ what made beings what they were. Maybe their _souls_? Their _energy_? Their _aura_? Sam didn't know how to call it. He actually didn't care either at the moment.

Gleaming strands of energy, moving inside invisible human outlines with arms, legs and heads. He just couldn't see their faces or what they wore ... as if he saw the _purity_ inside of them.

He just knew that there were differences. - Dean, the hunter beside him, was a pale silvery light – as were the nurses from the hospital ... and _Hank_. But these walkers ... they looked like a worn out grey, as if their energies had faded. As if they weren't themselves anymore.

And then there were the trees and plants and fire ... everything that was alive seemed to carry some sort of energy, Sam was able to see. So _yes_, there were also colours and shapes. But it looked just different and for some reason it didn't look to him as if he could touch it.

At least there was light in the darkness, wasn't it? At least he'd know WHAT he was dealing with, right? Depending on if he'd be able to see demons and monsters and such too and just if they looked different from humans and walkers ... So no, actually he wouldn't be completely blind if this state would last. But he also couldn't SEE what someone was doing ... he just KNEW there was someone there, doing something.

Sadly this didn't count for any kind of obstacles. He wouldn't see things that stood in his way. So even if he was able to see his opponent, he could still fall.

He was screwed nonetheless. No matter how he put it, it was bad. Worse than bad. Maybe it wouldn't have been that drastic if the world wasn't as screwed as it was.

The feeling of being watched ripped him out of his thoughts right then, bringing his mind back to reality.

Dean glanced at the hooker beside him while he drove. A moment too long, he figured, as the man beside him blinked a couple of times and directed his look out of the windshield instead of continuing to stare out of the window on the passenger's side.

"My name's not Morgan.", Sam muttered and looked back out of the windshield, watching the passing shades of green and blue and the worn out grey silhouettes.

Dean glanced at him again and looked back at the road. _About time ._.. he thought. The Winchester turned on the headlights, since the sun was starting to set. He was getting tired already, so he rubbed with his right hand over his face as if to wipe the sleep away.

"Figured." The hunter put his hand back on the steering-wheel.

"I'm Sam.", Sam continued.

"Pleasure, _Sam_." Dean smiled a little, despite the fact that the man couldn't see it. He hoped he could HEAR the smile anyway.

Silence again for a couple of miles, before Dean spoke up. "Listen ... I'm gettin' tired. - Might as well we need to stop somewhere."

Sam nodded, staring out of the passenger's side. HE wasn't tired at all. Not a little bit.

His shoulder and chest started to throb again, his head seemed heavier as ever before. Maybe laying flat on his back would ease some of the aches, since sitting – curled up – in the passenger's seat seemed to strain his injuries even further.

* * *

They drove another couple of miles. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon. Sam hadn't seen any walker since quite some time though, so he figured he could point that out.

Non of the both of them wanted to end up as beef stroganoff.

Sam cleared his throat, gaining the hunter's attention. "If you see any buildings around here ... I think it'd be a good place to spend the night." He glanced to his left.

Dean glanced to his right, catching the hooker's empty gaze. He looked back at the street and shot him a second look – a confused one. "_What_ makes you think that way?"

"No walkers.", Sam answered calmly.

"How'd you know?", he went on asking, getting even more curious about the man beside him.

"I can't _see_ any." Sam blew out a shuddering breath. Might as well play fair and tell the hunter everything. He should play fair – and hopefully the guy would too and keep his word in the end.

"Figured you can't see anything?" Okay, this might haven't been very tactful, but it'd bring him some answers – and that was why he had taken the hooker with, hadn't he?

Sam leaned his forehead against the cool window and closed his eyes, sucking in a slow deep breath. "It's complicated."

"Mind explaining it to me?" Frustration swung in the hunter's voice. _Complicated ... my ass. _

"It's not like I can SEE them ... I just _see_ them. They look ... _different_. - It's like ... I can see their energy and yours. It's like ... shapes and silhouettes, and ... it's difficult to explain.", he trailed off. Sam swallowed – hard – on the verge of tears. "It's pretty blurry ..."

He didn't want _any _of this ...

Dean nodded with a frown on his forehead – thinking. That brought light to their situation from a completely new perspective. "So you aren't blind?"

"Not really I guess. - But it feel like it. Nothing looks like before. - I don't see where I grab if I'd reach my hand out for the glove compartment or the door-handle. - It'd dark. These things are kinda dead material ... Detroit was dark with silvery gleaming things flooding around ... so yes. - I thought I am going crazy. - I THINK i'm going crazy." Sam explained calmly and blinked a couple of times, trying not to seem vulnerable or even weak. - How – in fact he actually felt.

Weak. Vulnerable. Hurt and in pain. Hell, he didn't even know how he was supposed to get out of the damn car when they'd arrive wherever the hunter was going to take him.

"It's a long way to your cabin ...", Sam stated some time later.

Dean sniffed and took in the pale face of his passenger, noticing the thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead and cheeks, his neck ... His expression changed, softened and became concerned.

"You're in pain?", Dean asked uncertain.

The hooker shook his head.

Without asking further questions he reached over and laid his hand on Sam's forehead. The younger man flinched away, but Dean kept his hand where it was, feeling an unhealthy warmth radiating from him.

"You're running a fever.", Dean muttered frowning. "Since when?"

"What does it matter?", Sam asked back with a huff.

Dean Winchester rolled with his eyes, catching sight of a building out of the corner of his left eye. He smacked his lips, easing his foot from the gas-pedal.

"Because it does ...", Dean just said silently and pulled off of the street onto a dirt road. "So ... you're seeing anything that looks like a walker out there?"

Sam sniffed, staring out of the windows. "No ... no one's out there ..."

Dean glanced at the man and shook his head in disbelieve. "Fine. - Guess I found us something to hole up for the night."

The headlights shone on an abandoned looking small farm-house. Dean parked the car right in front of its porch, glancing through the window of the passenger's seat. "Maybe gonna find a real bed in there though ...", he muttered to himself. Hell, how he missed the bunker and his room ... and damn it, his bed and the mattress made of memory foam ...

Dean killed the engine and cocked an eyebrow at Sam. The guy needed his pills. He needed something to eat. Hell, the both of them needed something to eat. The gashes might as well were infected by now – despite the antibiotics he had gotten in the hospital.

Without a further word, he switched off the headlights and got out of the car. He then got the duffel with the tins and the spoons he had taken with from Sam's apartment. The Winchester went back to the passenger's side and opened the door, catching the younger man before he could topple out of the car.

"Easy there, tiger.", Dean muttered under the man's weight.

"Sorry ..." Sam lifted his arm around the hunter's neck and fisted the leather jacket in his hand to hold onto it.

"Keep your eyes open. - Let me know when you see walkers ..." Dean pulled the man to his feet and went for the porch with him. He kept his pace slow, well knowing how painful and exhausting a wound like that was. Not to mention the concussion ...

Dean straightened up, ignoring the pulling pain on the left side of his ribcage. "Dammit.", he cursed silently, as they made their way up the porch and through the unlocked front door. The hunter pulled a flashlight from the back-pocket of his jeans and switched it on, shining into the room.

There wasn't a lot to make out, despite the dirt and dust and spiderwebs. It looked like the house had gotten raided years before ... someone had taken everything that seemed to be useful to them – everything they were able to carry.

Dean spotted an open door to their left, lurking inside he saw a kitchen. Behind the door to their right was a living-room. The hunter decided to stay there – bedrooms however would be upstairs anyway. And he couldn't bother himself to get the sasquatch of a man up the stairs. - It'd be easier to get the mattresses down – IF they were still there.

"We're stayin' in the living-room.", Dean muttered and guided Sam there, letting him sink down into a wasted looking recliner. He let the duffel with the tins and cans slip down from his shoulder beside him and took a deep steadying breath.

Sam rolled his head back against the backrest and closed his eyes with a low moan. This felt way more comfortable than the passenger's seat.

"I'll go and take a look at the rest of the house. - Try to find some blankets." Dean eyed the younger man from tip to toe with an unreadable expression on his face.

Sam's eyes opened to small slits, trying to focus on the hunter, on what he just had said. But all he was able to hear was the roaring from his own blood in his ears, the pain that was shooting through his wounded shoulder and chest. His arms and feet felt heavy and disobedient. Sam wanted to shift in the recliner, trying to get into a more comfortable position ... _but he couldn't. _

Dean eyed the younger man for another moment. "I'm back in a couple of minutes ... just hold on.", and with that he took off.

* * *

When he came back with the first mattress he had found in one of the beds upstairs, Sam had his eyes closed and seemed to be asleep. Dean then hurried up to get the second one from what seemed to be a parent's bedroom. The hunter then went for a heap of blankets he had found in a chest and brought them downstairs.

As he entered the room, he again, glanced with a worried expression at the younger man.

"There you go ...", he muttered, already feeling the cold night's air seeping through his clothing.

Dean hurried up to get the mattresses settled in front of the small fireplace. Heavily panting he went back beside the unconscious man and laid his hand on the hooker's good shoulder.

"Sam?", he asked, "You gotta wake up, man."

The man stirred and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the pain coming back to take him over.

"You need to eat something and get your pills down.", Dean explained. "I'll get you on the mattress later ..."

All Sam could manage was a low groan. The pounding in his head increased the more aware he got of his surroundings.

Dean sucked in a deep breath, eying the duffel with the cans. He sniffed and went for it, picking the big can of ravioli. He then opened it with his pocket-knife and got two spoons.

Dean eyed the goop inside the can and scrunched up his nose at the ridiculous smell. He plugged one of the spoons inside it. Then his look wandered over his shoulder towards the kitchen-door.

Maybe he was a little lucky and he'd be able to warm up their food. They sure as hell could need it. Dean stood for another moment where he was, and then went into the kitchen.

Short after, there was the cracking and splintering of wood heard. When Dean reemerged from the kitchen, he carried the broken pieces of a wooden chair in his arms, throwing them on the floor in front of the fireplace.

He then tugged out a pack of matches and prepared the fireplace. Fifteen minutes later the fire was burning and Dean brought some more wood. After that was done, he got one of the pots from the kitchen and emptied the can of ravioli into it, placing it on the side of the fire.

While those would get warmed up, Dean went back to the recliner, checking on the hooker who was now obviously fighting for conciousness.

The hunter then went outside to the car again, getting his duffel and the paper-bag with Sam's pills from the passenger's seat. He then unscrewed a water-bottle and crouched down beside the recliner, holding the bottle in one hand and three pills in his other one.

"There you go, kiddo.", Dean muttered, fixing the younger man's look. "Got your pills."

When Sam didn't make an attempt to grab the stuff by himself, Dean sighed deeply. He wasn't the caring-type. He never was. Hell, he couldn't even stand Kevin too long after one of his visions. The hunter was way too uncomfortable with this things like that.

"Open up.", he muttered and already sounding annoyed.

Sam eyed the hunter with fever-dazed eyes and opened his mouth slightly in an attempt to ask for what he should do that. But before words could even form in his mind, the hunter had popped the pills in and set the bottle to his lips, tilting it up.

Sam swallowed, drinking half of the bottle in one go (because that was when the hunter took it away form him).

Dean then hurried up to put up salt-lines and wardings around the living-room.

"Good." Dean glanced at the pot in the fire-place. "Guess they're warm enough."

Sam's head lolled to the side, glancing into the fire. Seeing the fire. To his amazement it wasn't yellow or red ... it had several shades of blue. From marine-dark to baby-blue. His eyes reflecting the warmth and the colours, letting his circles appear like liquid crystals.

Dean got the pot out of the fireplace and pulled up a chair beside the recliner. He then stuck both spoons in it and glanced at the hooker, who seemed a bit more alert now.

"You gotta eat something.", Dean reminded him silently and put the pot on the armrest between the both of them.

Sam shifted in the recliner, leaning towards his left, where he sensed slight movement. Dean cursed at himself and shook his head. The guy needed help, wouldn't be able to find the spoon and the pot on his own.

"Wait, I'll show ya.", was all Dean muttered and took the hooker's hand in his and guided it towards the spoon wich all of a sudden made Sam's hand feel heavier than it was before.

The younger man blew out a deep breath, letting the spoon sink back into the pot and letting go of it.

Dean sighed deeply and glanced at the man, who leaned back into the recliner again. "C'mon ...", it was more of a frustrated whine. "You need to eat. - Just a couple of spoons."

"Can't.", Sam muttered silently. And he truly couldn't. Despite the fact that he wasn't hungry (quite the opposite of it), he didn't feel capable of lifting the damn thing just a little.

Dean nodded to himself and stuffed a spoon full of ravioli into his mouth. He ate in silence, staring into the fire, emptying the better half of the pot before he got to his feet again. All warmed up from the inside, he glanced at the mattress and back at Sam. The hunter eyed the hooker and rubbed his hands in preparation.

"You should lay down.", Dean mentioned silently.

"I'm good over here.", Sam muttered and closed his eyes lazily.

"Bet you are.", the hunter huffed and shook his head.

Without asking, he grabbed the younger man by his hoody and pulled him to his feet. He then maneuvered him onto the mattress closest to the fireplace and threw two blankets over him, before he laid down, covering himself with another two blankets.

The night carried on. Sam was dead to the world (more or less), while Dean woke every now and then to the hooker's pained moans and violent shivers. The hunter turned from one side to the other, trying to ignore the man, who laid just inches beside him.

"Dude.", he hissed and pressed his lips together in a hard line, rolling his eyes. "What the hell ..."

With a huff he turned back to his right side, eying the man for a couple of moments. Then he laid his hand over Sam's forehead, feeling the cold clammy skin, the tremors that ran through the younger male's body.

"Damn it.", he cursed through gritted teeth. The guy was cold to the touch.

Dean took a moment to compose himself. He then lifted the other man's blankets and inched closer, tugging the blankets from Sam over himself, and his both over the both of them on top.

He turned the younger man over to his side and sneaked one arm under the man's head and one over his waist, pulling him backwards, until his back was flush against Dean's chest. After, the man didn't do as much as groan, he carefully tugged him a little bit closer and laid his hand on the hooker's solar plexus, feeling the steady rise and fall of his ribcage.

Somehow ... after a while ... Sam seemed to fall back into a deeper sleep, shifting his hand over Dean's and squeezing it weakly, holding onto it.

The hunter froze in place, body going rigid at the unexpected ... how was he supposed to call this? _Closeness_?

The feeling of the other man's hand covering his, the warmth, the way it felt when he tightened his grip around it, pressing it against his body. - It made the hunter panic slightly.

Uncomfortable with the closeness, Dean attempted to pull his hand away slowly, trying to sneak out of the hooker's grip. But _he_ just tightened it weakly, long fingers wrapped around Dean's hand to hold it where it was.

So Dean gave in. - A part of him didn't want to be that close to someone else. But the other part of him was starving for it. So why not? No one would know except himself and Sam was too much out of it right now to notice.

Besides: It didn't mean anything – just comfort for someone who seemed to need it. So he let his hand rest where it was, the tension in his body slowly easing away, until he laid his head down on the mattress and let his eyelids fall shut.

* * *

The next morning came early. Too early for Dean Winchester's liking. It was warm and soft ..._ he was comfortable_. It felt so unbelievable pleasant. The hunter tightened his hold around whatever made him feel so amazingly welcome in his half-sleep.

That was when his eyes snapped open and he heard a pained groan,. He let go an instant, inching back from the living and breathing form beside him (he hadn't noticed he had been snuggling into).

Dean rolled onto his back, glancing over Sam towards the fireplace. The fire had died soon after they had fallen asleep.

The hunter rubbed over his face with both hands and yawned lazily, stretching his limbs from him.

It took Dean another ten minutes to get up from the mattress and fire up a some of the burst chair-parts the fireplace. He then checked at the salt-lines and other wardings. When Dean was sure that everything was in place, he got another tin with ravioli and added them to the rest from the day before. When the fire was blazing, Dean put the pot at the side of the fire and turned back towards the hooker.

Sam's eyes were still closed and he seemed to be fast asleep.

Though Dean had to wake him up. He needed his pills in the right schedule or the antibiotics wouldn't help any. Besides: They had to get back on the road, didn't they?

"Hey ...", Dean laid his hand on Sam's bicep and shook him slightly. "Wake up, Sam."

The man blinked his eyes open groggily and moaned. He then squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to clear his vision ... even when there was nothing to clear. And once again he got reminded that it was like it was right now. That he had to deal with his condition for his time being.

That he was blind and with a stranger ...

Dean spared him a small smile. "Feeling any better?"

Sam gave him a short nod. "Yeah, thanks.", he answered raspy and tried to prop up on an elbow, but sank back down again.

"Just stay put, man." Dean glanced at the pot in the fireplace and back at Sam. "I'll get your meds, then we'll eat something and hit the road again."

Sam's eyes fluttered closed. He in fact felt better after getting some sleep on a mattress, as he had been able to stretch out.

For once he didn't wake because he was freezing. For once he was all warm and cosy, tugged under a bile of blankets. Maybe (just maybe) this wasn't that bad at all ... the hunter maybe (just maybe) cared a little about him ...

He heard the muffled thumps of heavy boots moving away and what seemed like moments later they came closer again and stopped right beside the mattress. Then he felt it tip down on his side and he opened his eyes again. Still dazed from fever and pain, but other than that he didn't seem as pale anymore as the night before. Even the shivering had stopped.

Sam sat up awkwardly, the stitches pulling on his skin where it was held together.

Dean eyed him carefully, not sure if it would be okay to help him ... so he didn't and let the man work it out on his own.

When he was sitting criss-cross, Dean laid three pills in his palm. Two small white ones and a yellow one. Sam took them gratefully and gulped them down with some water.

Dean then reached for the pot and went for the two spoons from last night.

"You hungry?", the older man asked and held one of the spoons towards Sam.

The hooker pulled a grimace. No he actually wasn't hungry. Not at all ...

"You gotta eat something." Dean would never admit that he WAS kind of worried. He was the tough guy, the one who wasn't supposed to show emotions. The one who wasn't into cuddling (but had KIND OF done it anyway last night).

Sam gave him a short nod and the hunter took the younger man's hand and laid the spoon into his open palm. The hooker inched closer to the edge of the mattress, so he was sitting beside Dean and closer to the pot of ravioli.

With a little help, Sam found the rim of the pot and was able to scoop some onto his spoon.

They then ate in silence, emptying the pot slowly.

When they were done, Dean packed up the duffel with the tins and cans, Sam's meds and the blankets. (Because you couldn't have enough blankets these days.) When the hunter had brought him outside and settled in the car, he went back inside, checking the house over once more in daylight if there'd be something useful left. Maybe something they could possibly trade in later.

Dean in fact found some useful looking things (Pots, plates, mugs, an old radio device, ...) and stored them on the backseat of his beloved car. Sadly he didn't find any food.

* * *

Four hours later the Impala was in the middle of nowhere, somewhere on a dirt road in the woods. Then, after about what seemed as an eternity, hitting every single damn pothole on their path, the Impala slowed down and came to a hold.

Sam sucked in a relieved breath as the hunter turned off the engine. Finally they had arrived wherever their destination was meant to be ... All Sam could see was a dark giant – rectangular form and ... what he thought it was: Trees ... wilderness surrounding it. The shape was too small for a house. It had rather the size of a door or something. The green and white shapes that surrounded it let him suppose that it led somewhere down into the ground.

That fact let him definitely feel more than just uneasy. Who the hell was living underground? Where did the hunter take him? Hadn't the man talked about a cabin?

Maybe the hunter was a psychopath nonetheless and this would be some kind of prison, somewhere where he could take his time with Sam ... Right then he wished he would've pulled the trigger back then. It would've spared him what might lay before him.

"Where are we?", Sam choked out, looking in the direction of the driver's seat. He couldn't suppress the fear in his voice.

Dean glanced towards him, rasing an eyebrow. "That's where I live ...", he answered pensively, "It's _safe_."

... as if that was enough as an answer. Even a not-blind person would high likely freak out at this sight. Sure, the building reached high into the sky and kind of looked like a fortress, even when the entrance seemed to lead into the basement.

But THAT wasn't something Sam was able to see from his perspective.

Sam gave him a short nod and stared back out of the passenger's window into the darkness.

Dean got out of the car and moved around to open the door on the door on the other side. But Sam wouldn't move, he seemed like he was glued to his seat. The hooker then looked up at the silvery shining being, his hazel-green-circles somehow pleading.

Dean chuckled nervously and shook his head with a sigh. "Don't you worry. - It's pretty nice down there. We've water, electricity ... we've pretty everything." He sniffed. "And ... I'll promise, okay? I promise you won't regret coming with me. There's no one hurting you over here."

Sam's look sunk and then he looked back up with a nod to himself. He got out of the seat and pulled himself up on the door, stabilizing his stand as he swayed.

The hunter then helped him down the stairs that lead towards the heavy metal-door. Dean fumbled for the key and unlocked it. He then shoved it open with a loud squeak of metal grinding against metal, and led Sam inside, guiding his staggering company onto the small platform on top of an iron stairway that led further down.

"Home sweet home.", Dean smiled, relieved that he was back in the one place that truly meant to be safe. Where his family lived. Well ... more friends than family ... but then again ..._ in fact it was family_. The only family he had left after all these years.

Sam glanced over the metal banister, his eyebrows furrowing ... and then he saw it ... there were _others_. **OTHERS**.

Dean had mentioned "_friends_" ... sure. But he had never said that these "_friends_" would be where he was taking him.

The man had _lied_. They wouldn't be alone. There were OTHERS.

Sam could feel blind panic rising deep inside him as his gaze fell onto the two beings about fifteen yards below them ... His eyes widened and he froze. One of the things didn't seem quite human. It's energy – or however to call it – looked different. It was white and blue gleaming and it was brighter than anything else he had seen since back then. There were strands reaching from it like wings. And something above its head that pretty much looked like a halo.

_... to be continued **(IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE ... OF COURSE)**_

* * *

_**A/N**: somehow I'm not so cool with this chapter ... idk why ... maybe because i read some REAL GREAT stories like "**Hunter of the Shadows Book 1 – 3**" by **skag trendy** ... I love her style, she's a great writer ... maybe, one day i'll be as good as her ... _

_until then: ya'll have to deal with my spelling-mistakes and my bad grammar ^^_

_Next one up: **CHAPTER 5 ~ Friends**_


	5. Chapter 5 Friends?

THANK YOU for all your nice reviews! :D you guys keep me going!

WARNING: Dean's gonna be a real ass. - But things will change ;) 

BECAUSE WE MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR!

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 5 ~ Friends**_

THEN:

_The man had ____lied__. They wouldn't be alone. There were OTHERS._

_Sam could feel blind panic rising deep inside him as his gaze fell onto the two beings about fifteen yards below them ... His eyes widened and he froze. One of the things didn't seem quite human. It's energy – or however to call it – looked different. It was white and blue gleaming and it was brighter than anything else he had seen since back then. There were strands reaching from it like wings. And something above its head that pretty much looked like a halo._

* * *

NOW:

The hunter was one _lying_ bastard. He wasn't different from the others – _no he wasn't._ He had brought him here. Brought him here to do _god knew what_. And hell … Sam should've pulled the trigger, should've spared himself to end up like _this_.

There were two guys and someTHING else now, somewhere in the woods, under the ground. He was screwed …_ so screwed_.

* * *

„You brought him with?" Castiel was on his feet and at the foot of the stairs in a matter of seconds.

Then Kevin appeared behind him wide-eyed, looking up at the two men that had just entered.

Dean saw the hooker freezing in his tracks. He felt his muscles grow taut, where he had his hand on Sam's shoulder.

„Friends.", Dean said.

Sam sucked in a deep breath. „You didn't say anything about _friends_ … that are actually staying _with you_. In your _cabin_.", he muttered.

The hunter frowned at the younger man. The wall of defense and anti-feelings-protection was about to build up again.

„Thought it doesn't matter.", he said matter-of-factly and intended to shove the man forward, getting him down there.

Dean needed a shower. A hot shower. He needed his bed. He needed to be ALONE like he was used to. Somehow spending that much time in a single room with someone else (with someone else he had needed to look out and take care of) had drained him and he felt like it started to make him go soft on the inside again. Dean didn't want to lose his stealth and coldness. His iron composure.

„Just … just let me back out.", Sam stuttered, his breath changing into a rabid pace. „Let me back out ...", and with that he pushed away from the hunter, staggering backwards against the door.

Sam felt the handle digging into his lower back and he turned around and reached for it. He couldn't stay. _He wouldn't._ The overwhelming panic and rising adrenaline in his bloodstream yelled at him to RUN. _Yes_, because Sam was a _runner_. Had always been a _runner_. He barely fought his fights in the past. And he sure as hell wouldn't start now.

„What the hell?", Dean yelled furious as he got shoved aside by the hooker, and then a second time, as Dean intended to pull the man away from the door.

„Let me out! _Damn it!"_, Sam yelled.

The door had been locked again as soon as it had slid back into the door frame anyway. It was such an automatic thing … Once inside you had to use the key.

„Hey!", Dean got behind the man, wrapping his arms around him and pulled him backwards. „Calm down, man!"

„You lied!", Sam cried out while he struggled against the hold the hunter had onto him.

A moment later Sam found himself face down on the cold iron gutter, a heavy weight pinning him down, his arms and feet straddled.

„Let me go!", the hooker barked, „_Get off_! GET OFF of me!"

Dean wanted to do nothing more than giving the guy a slap in the face … or a hit at the head so he would shut up. - Man … people could be so damn annoying.

Castiel and Kevin watched the events upstairs – stunned and confused at the same time.

„Cas! Damn it! I could use a lil' help up here!", the Winchester yelled.

Sure the guy beneath him was hurt – but hell, he was struggling like for dear life. No – Dean wouldn't let go of him. There was no way he'd let the guy hit him with one of his immensely long limps. The man beneath him was frantic. He panted, tried desperately to free his arms from Dean's death-grip.

„Damn it, boy. Would you – the hell – calm down?!", the hunter hissed, putting more of his weight onto the man.

A silent whimper escaped the hooker's throat. „_Please … please … don't._"

The very next moment the white-blue gleaming thing was beside him, coming even closer as it was hovering above him and the hunter. Then – suddenly – a warmth spread over his forehead and everything got wiped away by darkness. Sam felt his own racing mind falling silent, felt his body growing limp …

* * *

Dean grunted as he got up, rubbing over his face and shook his head.

Castiel kneeled beside the human, Dean had brought with him and glanced up at his friend questioning, before he looked back down at the man, who was now sound asleep.

„You might want to explain what this is all about?", Castiel asked frowning.

Dean sucked in a deep breath, gathering as much oxygen in one go as possible. „When we've brought him in one of the bedrooms ..."

* * *

An hour later the three men had settled Sam in the free room right across the corridor from Dean's. They laid him down on the king sized bed, renewed the bandages that were covering the stitches and covered him with the comforter and an extra blanket. While they did so, the hunter explained to Castiel and Kevin what had happened and what was after these people. He also told them about Sam's condition, how he got hurt, what his current state was.

Dean then went for their duffels and brought them inside, dropping the hooker's backpack in the man's room, before he locked it down from the outside.

He didn't need a stranger strolling around in the bunker. It was their home, their private place – and the guy was there (more or less) temporary.

Because there was no way in hell, Dean would take up with the man any longer than he had to. Because he was a threat. A threat to Dean Winchester's emotional world. Because of how he made the hunter feel – all tingly and those flying colorful bastards in his stomach.

Dean Winchester was about to topple over into a pool of feelings and he feared he'd drown in them. That those feelings would blur his mind and let him do stupid things. Let him forget about HIS job. So yes. He _couldn't_ let THAT happen.

As Dean made no attempt to check on the new inhabitant and rather went into his room to get some „shuteye"(as the hunter called it), Castiel took the keys and went inside to stay as long as it would take for the man to wake up again.

Sometimes the angel didn't quite understand the Winchester.

THIS Dean would stop at nothing. He'd sell his own grandmother to the devil. Sometimes he missed the OLD Dean. The one before all this happened. He had _cared_. He had _loved_. He had _felt_. But this Dean? He was completely different. He was a _hunter_, a _predator_. He was calculating, accepting collateral damage where he figured there'd be no other way out.

Castiel couldn't even believe at first that Dean had honestly suggested to the man, that he'd help him with killing himself. Even when Castiel's grace was cut back, even when he felt more human after these years … he still _was_ an angel. He still admired god's creation. A part of him still felt like he had to save humanity … No matter if someone was handicapped. No matter what this person had done.

So if Dean wouldn't be willing to save _this_ life … Castiel would at least try. Would at least try to show him that there was still a reason left to live.

* * *

He stood under the hot-water-spray, letting the warmth soak into his skin, feeling the water run over his aching muscles of his back and chest and his bruised side. The hunter ran his fingers through his short spiked dark-blonde hair, closing his eyes as he turned around to face the warming attraction above him. He rubbed over his eyes and cheeks, down his three-days-beard that covered half of his face.

It felt like the water was washing his darkest thoughts away. As if it was burning his fears and concerns slowly,. As if the water was easing the never-ending pain of loss and grief in his soul. It'd help him to see things clearer, to let him focus again.

He didn't need to lock the man away. - He wasn't a warrior or fighter. He was a half-blind hooker who possibly not even knew how to handle a knife – not to mention a gun.

He should've tried to calm Sam down, instead of yelling at him. Hell, the guy had been through one hell of a lot the past forty-eight hours. On top of that he had THE SHINING or something. He should've acted different, should've tried to talk to him. Hell, he should've told him that there'd be others. How would he have reacted in Sam's place? What would he had thought in Sam's place about a stranger picking him up at the strip, telling him that demons were after him (and actually save his life) and bring him somewhere into the woods, into some kind of basement, where two other men were waiting for them?

Hell, Dean would've freaked out _bigstyle_, would've probably tried to kill the bastards instead of running.

The hunter turned the water off and shook his head. He then blinked his eyes open and stared at the beige tiles before him.

He cursed at himself, cursed at the world, cursed at how everything went down ever since Adam had jumped into the pit to save this damn unthankful piece of shit called humanity. No one out there knew what Dean Winchester had lost. No one knew why so many humans were still alive and not dead yet.

Sadly Adam's jump into the pit hadn't stopped the apocalypse. Not at all at least. There had still been the virus … and then the walkers … somehow nothing had made sense. Still didn't make sense …

Dean Winchester had lost everything in a matter of hours. - So he had also lost himself …

* * *

Castiel shifted in his chair in the corner farthest from the door. He leaned his head back, sighing deeply. He hadn't thought that he had knocked the guy out for that long. _Then again_ … he hadn't used his abilities for quite some time. - Not after he had put Robert Singer together again.

With another sigh, he turned his attention back at the human on the bed. He couldn't remember that he ever felt that bored in his life. As full-angel he wouldn't have been bothered … but now … now he was annoyed. So annoyed it physically started to annoying him. - He wished he'd taken his bag of grass with him… and an ashtray so he wouldn't mess up their newest bunker-members place.

„What are you?", came a raspy silent voice from the direction where the bed was.

Castiel straightened up in the chair and cleared his throat. „You're awake ..." He watched the man shift under the covers, see his eyelids fluttering open. - Though he continued to stare at the ceiling.

„What are you?", Sam repeated.

Castiel got up from his chair with a slight smile playing on his lips. „You're blind, but you can see?"

„You can bet on it.", Sam answered, wincing as he flexed the muscles of his back and neck.

„Well … I am … I WAS an angel of the lord … until the apocalypse went down. And then … then an angel tried to settle a fight in heaven and locked my sisters and brothers up there. Wich made the whole situation even worse … Now … now I'm Castiel, Dean Winchester's and Kevin Tran's friend, who helps them fighting the evil ...", he explained calmly.

Sam cleared his throat silently. „Angels ..."

„Yes. - Angels.", Castiel said.

„Where have the angels been when I prayed? - Where have you been when I would've needed you the most?", he asked silently, not looking into his direction.

Castiel's lips formed into a thin line, his expression saddening. „Most of my brothers and sisters chose the wrong path. - They forgot about their responsibilities."

Sam sighed. „That's why you locked them away?"

Castiel looked stunned for a moment. „Yes. That is why I did it."

„Does it work?", Sam asked curiously.

Castiel huffed and shook his head. „I wish I'd know …" He cast his look down and back up. „You thirsty?"

Sam nodded.

The angel went to the bedside-table, picking up the glass of water. He then sat down on the edge of the bed.

Sam shifted away as he felt the mattress tip down on his right side. Trying to get some distance between him and the being that pretended to be a heavenly creature.

„You know, Sam. We won't hurt you.", he said, as he took Sam's hand in his and put the glass there. „Dean might seem to be a bit rough at times. - But he his a good man. And an even better friend."

Sam propped up on his elbows and sat up awkwardly, taking a zip from the water.

„He lost a lot of people he loved. Things like that are changing humans.", Castiel tried to explain, hoping that the man would understand.

Sam listened. He listened closely, trying to read in between the lines. He observed and took in every single drop and rise of his voice.

That was when the leaned on door swung open and a sleepy looking Dean Winchester appeared in the doorway with towels and wash clothes in his hands. „I'm sure our _visitor_ isn't interested in all our dirty lil' secrets, Cas."

Sam's attention and the one's of the angel turned towards the hunter, who took a couple of steps into the room.

„Sam has a right to know who we are when we are going to know who he is.", Castiel explained calmly and smiled up at Dean with bright blue eyes. „I suppose he's going to stay?"

The hooker frowned and looked questioning at Dean and then at Cas.

„You don't have to explain _anything_ to me.", Sam said before anyone else was able to talk up, „I won't stay long enough to get to know ya'll that good." He wore a sad smile, casting his look down. „Right?", he looked in Dean's direction, a sad and though hopeful expression on his face.

Dean sniffed and rubbed over his mouth, closing his eyes for a moment.

A hint of confusion mixed into Sam's facial expression and he frowned. „Right?", he repeated insecure.

Dean nodded. „Yeah. - Right, Sam. As i promised." He didn't sound as confident as Sam had expected.

„You're holding onto your promises, right?" Sam had to be sure. „You told me that."

The hunter frowned, something crossed his face, that Castiel couldn't quite name.

„Of course I'm holding my promises. - Don't you worry about _that_."

Castiel's face darkened as Sam's lit up. He didn't like how Dean acted – not a little bit.

Ignoring his angel-friends glare, Dean tossed the towels and wash clothes on the bed, giving Castiel a challenging look. „In case you wanna get cleaned up … - Cas's gonna help you." A mischievous grin formed on his lips. „He's our head-nurse down here."

* * *

Dean brought the pain killers for Sam and a bowl with warm oatmeal later. He heard muffled voices from the bathroom and he listened, tried to make out what was said. Mainly he heard Cas's voice. The angel was babbling again – for sure. Ever since the day he had shut down the gates of heaven, Castiel had changed in so many ways. He was more human now than he could've said about himself.

Castiel stood beside the sink, a towel in his hands, watching Sam closely as if he was an insect under the microscope. The hooker sat on a chair - the angel had got for him - clothed in nothing else but his boxers.

Sam wetted the wash-cloth and cleaned up his chest and stomach, carefully not to get the bandages soaked.

„You don't have to stay here ...", he finally spoke up, tossing the wash cloth back into the sink and looked up.

The angel looked at him a little bit confused, staring at him with big blue kitten-eyes. „I'd rather would. - I didn't expect that you would care that much about your personal space."

Sam frowned. He didn't quite know if he should be offended now or not … If the man was referring to his job … So he cleared his throat and wanted to say something, but Castiel was the first one to speak up, obviously well noticing that he must've said something wrong.

„I didn't mean to insult you.", he said then. „I thought because of the way you earn your money, that you wouldn't be bothered …" … okay, that was probably not the right way to put it too …

Sam's frown deepened and cast his look down, _visibly_ hurt now.

„Look … why don't you just leave, huh?", Sam said silently. „I can handle myself … so …"

Castiel nodded and looked aside - embarrassed. „I think I go and water my plants ..."

With that the angel left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. When he looked up, he spotted Dean, standing beside the bed, his arms crossed in front of his chest, shaking his head pensively.

„I think I upset our guest.", Castiel stated – obvoiusly confused with himself.

„No shit, Sherlock?" The hunter smiled at the angel's behaviour and chuckled silently. „How's he doing?"

„Why don't you ask him yourself?", the Angel gave back.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. „Because I'm asking you."

„Scared much?" Castiel straightened himself.

„What?" Dean tried to keep his voice low.

Castiel cocked an eyebrow, rubbing his palms on the jeans he wore. „You'd rather let him kill himself before you'd think how to CARE. How to SUPPORT him? You really want to do THAT, after you know everything you need to?"

Now Dean was confused. „I don't even know that guy!", he burst out, calming himself down before he continued more silent: „You and me and Kevin. - We know how dangerous it is out there. HE knows too. HE doesn't want to end up as monster-mash. And I respect that. - He's a gimp. He's practically blind."

Castiel's eyes grew round and he pursed his lips, his eyebrows narrowing. He then tilted his head to the side, observing Dean closely for another moment. „Sometimes I miss the _old_ Dean – the badass-hunter – Winchester. The one who wouldn't let anyone fall because of a disability." And with that he went past Dean and out of the room.

„I'm still a _badass_.", the hunter muttered to himself.

He stood there for a while … thinking. Thinking hard. And left after he was done, with a pensive expression on his face.

* * *

Sam heard two different muffled voices through the closed bathroom-door. He frowned and closed his eyes, trying to figure out who else – besides the angel – was out there. He tried to make out what they were saying, but no such luck. They were talking too silently.

With a deep sigh, Sam rose from the chair, holding the rim of the sink tight as he swayed.

He looked up into the mirror, where the reflection of a faint light was showing. Sam stared at it – he knew THIS was him. And … he looked _different_. His energy looked different. He was made of dark red (nearly black) and light blue, glistening and gleaming weakly. Sam reached up and touched his own cheek, seeing finger-like shapes brushing over the reflection of the mirror.

_Yes_ … this was him. - And he wasn't human. Nor an angel … nor did he look like a walker.

… He was a _freak_. - One of these monsters for sure. Sam didn't know how it was even possible or what he was, because he had never felt any different. He had always felt _human_ … but there, here. Maybe that was the reason why these demons were after him. And maybe these dead people (if he could still call them that) had been just like him.

Sam shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. He then started to feel his way around the sink, taking on the quest of finding his clothes and getting into them without any awkward accidents.

It took him half an hour to finally get dressed and back out of the bathroom (finding the doorknob had lasted at least another ten minutes). He obviously was alone. And he wasn't mad about it. Okay, maybe he was a little bit mad … but it wasn't that bad after all.

Sam just had to find his way – at least – back to the bed. He knew it had to be somewhere along the wall to his left, right? So Sam tentatively felt along the wall, bumping his thigh against some kind of furniture. He hissed and swallowed a cry, cursing under his breath.

This was so bad.

He made his way around the piece of furniture that probably was a dresser. Now more carefully, he felt his way along the wall, one step at a time. Sam limped along it now. One hand before him, his right hand feeling along the smooth surface of the wall.

It felt like he had taken the wrong direction … shouldn't he already be somewhere close to the bed?

Sam continued nonetheless, because it had to be somewhere around there. He felt a surface touching the fingertips of his left hand. That was when he realized … he must've taken the wrong direction out of the bathroom.

With a frustrated groan, he walked further along the wall, brushing with his fingertips over something that stood out of the wall, just an inch or two. A couple of inches further and there was something that felt like wood.

So this had to be the door that led out of the room. Sam passed it and – ever so carefully – went on. Bumping his sheen against something else.

„Damn it.", he cursed, feeling for the object that blocked his way: a chair.

Sam sniffed, getting more and more frustrated. He couldn't do this … couldn't even find the damn bed in a room that couldn't be bigger than his bedroom in the apartment.

The hooker shook his head, his lips quivering. He was on the verge of tears now. Sam told himself to stay calm, stay focused. Sooner or later he'd find what he was looking for, right?

But he didn't. Ten minutes later he found himself in the middle of the room, his hand resting on a chair (The one that Castiel had been sitting in, just a couple of feet away from the bed – his destination). Sam had made a turn before, as he figured he had something mixed up.

Now he was lost, in a room that wasn't even that big.

And his shoulder hurt.

He was sweating like he had run a marathon.

His head was throbbing.

He was done. _Just done._

Dizziness claimed him, turned his knees into jell-o and pulled the floor away under his feet a moment after. As he hit the floor – with his injured shoulder and chest – he felt his mind flooding away into nothingness.

…_... to be continued (just if you guys want me too ...)  
_


	6. Chapter 6 Because It Hurts

**I think it's about time to thank all the reviewers of this story :) **

samisnotevil, wildracarys, SingReader, elektra56765, desti-ariestya, SatanicLucifer, NitaProud, whimsicalbarwench, NevermoretheRaven37, princesslolitatheorca654

**it means a lot to me and keeps me going!**

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 6 ~ Because it Hurts**_

NOW: 

Dean stood in front of Sam's room, thinking about if he should check on him ... _or rather not_. So he stood there ... for a long time. Listened to the muffled shuffles of feet and thumps. Dean supposed the hooker actually tried to check out the room – more or less successful – by himself.

The hunter bit down on his lower lip, blinking a couple of times as the shuffling stopped and he heard the man inside talking to himself, but actually didn't understand what he was saying. His ever-so-green eyes looked at the door handle.

Actually he had wanted to apologize for how he had acted towards Sam when they entered the bunker. Had wanted to explain himself. That he so wasn't used to talk and explain things ... That he just should've reacted different. And most of all, that he was _sorry_ ...

In the very moment as the determination got its claws into him to go inside and as he laid his hand on the handle and pushed it down, he heard a LOUD thump from the other side of the door.

Not as if the man had bumped into another piece of furniture. _No_. It had sounded like he had hit the floor.

Something inside Dean shifted and he pushed the door open violently. As he stood there in the threshold, his look promptly fell on the human form on the floor. He cursed under his breath and was beside the man three long strides later, squatting down and laying his hand on the man's bicep.

"Sam?", he asked hesitantly, feeling the slightly dump fabric under his touch.

A low groan was all he got as respond.

Without a further word, Dean turned the man on his back, taking in the ashen color of his face. He didn't lose any more time and scooped the man up in his arms, grunting under the weight as he heaved himself to his feet.

He then carried Sam to the bed and laid him down on it, brushing strands of over-long chestnut-brown hair out of his face gently. Dean's fingertips wandered over his temple and cheek, down over his jaw and neck, letting his finger rest over the place where he felt a rapid thumping against this fingertips.

Dean watched the man's fast but shallow breaths for a couple of seconds, as he hovered over him. His hand found its way back up to the man's cheek and he cupped it. The unconscious impulse of giving Sam comfort overwhelming him right then.

"It's gonna be okay ...", he muttered, not sure if he tried to reassure himself or the unconscious man beneath him.

Something deep inside the hunter ached bitterly, as his gaze wandered over the prone form. Something inside him longed for taking care of the man. A desire – nothing sexual – that told him, that he needed to watch out for him. That he was vulnerable and that there'd be no one else beside him and his small family that would care enough.

And though ... he couldn't. He couldn't allow himself to be drawn too close to another being.

So he pulled his hand back from the man, throwing a blanket over him and sat down in the chair, where Sam had collapsed beside. After a while the hunter pulled the chair up closer to the bed, watching the man cautiously.

* * *

A silent knock on the door, and Dean got ripped away from his deepest of thoughts, slowly clawing his way back to the surface of reality.

The door opened and a black mop of hair and a face with asian features appeared, lurking curiously into the room.

"Kev?", Dean asked hoarsely as if he just had woken up, "What's up?"

The boy shook his head and glanced at the sleeping form on the bed and back at the hunter. "Dinner's ready in about an hour.", he whispered. "Should I get it over here?"

Dean flashed him a small smile and gave him a short nod, taking a glance at the bed himself, as he saw Sam stirring from the corner of his left eye.

Kevin nodded back and disappeared, leaving the door slightly agape.

Sam turned his head to the other side and creases of confusion formed on his forehead, his eyes moving rapidly under his eyelids. His breathing became faster and he started to moan as if he was in discomfort ...

Dean sat up in his chair and leaned slightly forward. Debating with himself if he should wake the man or not ... if he should try to comfort him ... or not? He surely wasn't the right guy for this kind of job. He was made for hunting. He was made for tracking down the evil and killing it. Not to baby-sit a grown up man ... Dean Winchester was born as a hunter and not a nurse, _wasn't he_?

The hunter pulled the chair closer to the head of the bed, watching the sleeping man's fingers twitch as his hands started to tremble. The lines of distress on his face increased and the moans turned into desperate whimpers.

"It's okay, man.", Dean finally spoke up, trying to talk as soft and gentle as possible for a Winchester (Without sounding like a girl of course). "Just a dream ... probably." His voice trailed off. "Hey. Dude. - Wake up." _... oh god ..._ he sounded like his father, didn't he? All commanding and anti-empathic. - Just like John. Hadn't he promised himself not to become like him? _Hadn't he? _

And now there he was. Exactly the way he didn't want to become ... a hard, cold bastard without feelings.

Well it wasn't completely true. Dean FELT things ... for the members of his family. - But this guy was a stranger, _right_? He didn't have to be empathic with him, did he? He didn't have to go full on mother-hen about someone he barely knew.

_And then again ... _

The man on the bed winced, a pained whimper escaping his mouth. "_Please ... oh god ... please. Don't ... don't – no ..._" It was desperate, heart-achingly sad.

"Sam?" Dean allowed himself to let the worry show in his voice, allowed himself to let some of it show on his face. He even reached for the man's hand and squeezed it gently. "Wake up, Sam." He squeezed the hand again. "You gotta wake up, kiddo.", the wall of defence in his mind already breaking. He glanced at the door and back at the – now – squirming man on the bed. "Whatever it is ... it's over, okay? - It's over and you're safe.", he whispered, his voice smooth like velvet all of a sudden. He reached with his free hand out towards the man's face and brushed with the backside of his hand over Sam's cheek – so gentle and careful as if he could hurt him with this simple gesture.

Dean leaned even closer, taking in Sam's pained expression, his flushed cheeks, his tight shut eyes, hearing his hurt whimpers.

_It hurt._ - So bad. Something told him to look away, turn around and leave the room. But another part of him wanted to stay, wanted to make things better for the man he had picked up two nights ago.

"Sam.", he whispered. "Wake up."

A split second later, the man's eyes flashed open. Sam was heavily panting, his clothes soaked in sweat, his heart racing. He clung to the hand that held his, holding it tight. So tight it must've hurt the hunter. But he didn't show it. _Wouldn't_ show it.

"I'm sorry ...", Sam muttered into thin air, his voice barely a whisper.

"You're back with me?", Dean asked, trying not to make that big of a deal out of it.

Sam nodded furiously, sucking in a deep shuddering breath, wincing as the stitches pulled on his skin.

"Good ..." Dean was about to pull his hand away, but Sam held it even tighter.

"_Please_ ...", Sam rolled his head to the side, facing the hunter, "_Please ... stay ... just for a while ..._"

Dean frowned, considering his options ... Seeing the man's lips quiver. Seeing tears gathering in his beautiful hazel-green eyes. Feeling his trembling hand.

Sam looked so much younger all of a sudden. So vulnerable.

"Okay.", he finally decided. "I'll stay."

"Thank you.", Sam mouthed and closed his eyes again, blowing out a deep breath.

The hunter squeezed the man's hand gently, not saying anything so the guy wouldn't HEAR the soft smile he was wearing on his lips.

"Wanna sleep some more?", Dean asked after a while. He knew Sam wasn't sleeping – not yet at least.

The man shook his head.

"Okay ... because I'd like you to meet Kev." Now he pulled his hand away and there was no resistance anymore from Sam's side.

"Why?" It was so silent, so insecure.

"Because you're gonna stay with us for a while. - And for your time being, I'd want you to feel as comfortable as possible, Sam." Dean tried to sound as matter-of-factly as possible. Because a part of him felt like having the responsibility over him (though the other one wanted Sam gone like yesterday).

"It won't be that long, will it?" Sam looked into the hunter's direction. "When I told you everything about me ... I'm of no use anymore, am I?"

"About that." Dean cleared his throat, catching Sam's panicking gaze.

"You promised." The hooker frowned, the feeling of betrayal mirroring in his darkening circles.

"Yes I did. And I intend to hold my promises. BUT – you have to promise me something too, okay?"

Sam's frown deepened some more. "No ... our deal's a different one. I'll tell you about me. Tell you EVERYTHING you want to know and then you'll let me go. THAT was our deal."

Dean swallowed hard. "I know ... but ... I thought you're blind. - And actually ... actually you're not definitely blind ..." Dean exhaled audibly. "I just want you to think about it. - Castiel and Kevin are here most of the time. I'm on the road, hunting things and stuff. So ... I wouldn't be around a lot anyway ... Sometimes it'd be just you and Kev ... and I thought – if you want to – you could stay." Okay, now that it was said ... maybe it didn't sound like he wanted it to sound. Actually - to himself - it sounded like he wasn't interested in being around the hooker. And a part of him wasn't.

"No." Sam's answer was too fast, too emotional.

"You – at least – have to think about that option, okay?"

Sam blinked a couple of times. "When do you want to get my biography told?", his voice was cool –_ too cool_. A giant difference between half an hour ago and now ... showing definite determination about what they had been talking about back in the apartment.

Dean sighed and leaned back in the chair. "After dinner ..."

* * *

Half an hour later Sam was on his feet (more or less), letting himself be guided into the bathroom, where Dean left him alone to take care of his business. He then led him out of the room, through the main-hall and into the kitchen, where he let him sit down on one of the benches.

Sam saw the human form (what had to be Kevin) and Castiel standing somewhere a couple of feet away, obviously preparing their dinner.

Dean joined them.

Sam watched them, heard them mutter. He wished he could help instead of just sitting there. As he felt eyes on him he cast his look down and closed his eyes. It didn't matter if he had them open or not – he wasn't able to SEE. SEE how the kitchen looked like, SEE what they were doing. He could just listen and smell and feel. Feeling the wooden surface of the bench and the table before him. He listened to the footfalls and voices.

This was beyond frustrating.

"Sam?" Dean tore him away from his thoughts.

Sam's head snapped up, gazing towards the three men. Actually the only things he was capable to see at the moment.

"You want your steak medium? Or bloody?", Dean repeated Castiel's question since he hadn't noticed his calling – obviously.

Sam swallowed. "Thanks. - I'm not hungry actually." He cleared his throat. "Maybe I could just get back into the room? - You could-"

"No." Dean didn't let him finish. "You can't. - I want you to eat with us."

Sam's gaze sank again and he looked aside, sucking in his lower lip. And there he was again – looking so much younger than he actually was. So insecure, so vulnerable.

"But-", he dared to speak up again.

"No." Was all Dean had to say about it. Because he knew Castiel had been right. He was scared. Scared of gathering new friends, scared of loosing those all over again. He pushed people away unconsciously and on purpose, because he was afraid of losing them, seeing them die.

That was why HE as a HUNTER prefered to have hookers. He paid them, they didn't charge FEELINGS for their service. They didn't want to cuddle and talk. They just vanished when their job was done and had gotten their money.

It was dangerous to live a hunter's life. Now more than ever. It was even more dangerous to share a live with a Winchester.

He had promised the man something he should've never done. Even though he understood why Sam wanted it rather that way than another. Sam wasn't dying, he wasn't death-sick. There was no reason to show mercy where it wasn't appropriate.

The man would be save in the bunker, like the rest of them – like Kevin, the prophet. He could possibly figure out how to find some places on his own ... They just had to work it out.

"There we go.", Kevin singsang, as he placed a big pan with steaks on the table.

Castiel came with a pot of lescó, he had made of the vegetables from his green house.

And Dean carried a basket with self-made bread to the table and placed it there.

Dean sat down on Sam's side of the table, while Cas and Kevin shared the bench on the other side.

Everyone besides Sam took one of the steaks and a scoop full of the lescó.

The hunter was about to cut into the precious piece of meat (since they didn't get THAT all the time. They had to hunt for it, to get it on the table. Though in the bunker they had it better than anyone out there anyway. So they were thankful for what they got.), when he glanced at Sam's empty plate.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at himself and forked up the fourth steak and placed it on Sam's plate. He then poured a scoop full of the vegetable-mixture beside it and pulled the whole think a bit closer to himself.

Dean stole a glance at the man beside him, before he started to cut the steak into pieces. He then stared at the prepared plate for a few seconds and frowned, gazing at the fork and the knife ...

Dean got up from the bench, causing Sam beside him to flinch because of the sudden movement. The hunter petted the man's good shoulder and went back to the drawers and cupboards, rummaging through them.

All eyes – except Sam's – on him.

After a few minutes he returned to the table with a bowl and a spoon, cleaning the contents on the plate into the it. When he was done, he reached for Sam's hand, who froze at the sudden physical contact. Dean thrust the spoon into it and then reached for Sam's other hand, guiding it to the rim of the bowl.

"There you go.", Dean said with a wide grin that showed how proud he was about himself. "Wanna have some bread?"

Sam nodded hesitantly.

Castiel – who sat opposite of Sam – laid it beside the bowl. "On your left side.", he just said, and went back to chew on his piece of meat.

Kevin watched the man across the table closely, his eyebrows furrowed while they ate in silence.

When they were done, Dean got the hooker's pills from a drawer in the kitchen and gave them to him. Sam gulped them down without asking and let himself being led into a room that looked like a library.

The hunter guided him towards one of the recliners, where he'd sit more comfortable than in a regular chair.

"Thanks.", Sam muttered under his breath, already exhausted and still suffering from the concussion he had gotten earlier.

"So ...", Dean started and placed a dictaphone in the middle of the table. "Is it okay when I record what you're going to tell us?"

Sam gave him a short nod, his look darting in between the three men, blinking insecure.

"Okay, Sam. - Just so you know: Everything – even if you think it's not important at all, or if it seems weird ... or anything – could be important for us. So just start ... and if I have questions, I'm going to ask, okay?"

Sam frowned but nodded, following the angel with gaze to his left. He then drew his attention back to Dean, who had made himself comfortable on the couch. "And ... where do I start? ... What's _important_ to know?"

Dean cleared his throat, blinking a couple of times. "Everything. - Just start with the date of your birth. Tell us everything you remember. - You're our one and only lead."

Sam gave him another nod. - Maybe he would be kind of useful though.

_... to be continued_

* * *

**BECAUSE I GOT SOOO MANY NICE REVIEWS ... ;) I thought I'll update a bit sooner, huh?**

**Oh, & don't think that was it ^^ it's gonna last a while before Dean's gonna get his shit together. **

**He's been through a lot the past years. He can't get all cuddly and fluffy all of a sudden – i'm sorry.**


	7. Chapter 7 Fighting The Feelings

_**I DO WORK MUCH BETTER WITH SOME BACON IN MY SYSTEM ;)**_

_oh ... and I wanted to add another warning: drug-use (marijoanna)_

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 7 ~ Fighting The Feelings**_

THEN:

_Sam frowned but nodded, following the angel with gaze to his left. He then drew his attention back to Dean, who had made himself comfortable on the couch. "And ... where do I start? ... What's ____important__ to know?"_

_Dean cleared his throat, blinking a couple of times. "Everything. - Just start with the date of your birth. Tell us everything you remember. - You're our one and only lead."_

_Sam gave him another nod. - Maybe he would be kind of useful though._

* * *

NOW:

Sam shifted in the recliner, trying to sort out his thoughts and memories. He rubbed over his eyes, trying to clear his mind.

Should he tell them? What he saw? In the mirror? Should he tell them, before he'd speak about anything else, and confess that he _was_ different? That … what he saw … that it _wasn't_ human? That HE wasn't human?

„Sam?", Castiel's voice tore through his thoughts.

He looked up and nodded. „May, the second 1983.", he mumbled, thrusting his jaw forward. „Sioux Falls, South Dakota."

All eyes were on him … _listening_. He usually wasn't used to the attention – except he was about to get rid of his clothes and was about to get fucked. So yeah … this was creepy _AND_ different, since he had never talked to anyone about his past. EVER. He had been Morgan for so long, that he barely could remember who Sam actually was, or what was left of him anyway.

„We had a dog. - Bones. I used to play with him in the garden. My parents were nice … my mom used to read me bedtime stories ..." He pursed his lips, trying to skip that part of his memories … trying to think about anything that wasn't „normal" back then. And something about that thought was itching him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Not yet. So instead of trying to scratch at the wall in his mind behind wich might were more memories, he just carried on with telling his story. „I was six when me and my parents got into an accident. We were on our way back home from uncle Bobby that night …"

Dean frowned. „_Uncle_?", he interrupted him. „_Bobby_? Robert Singer?"

Sam nodded, confusion settling over his face. „You know him?"

The Winchester frowned. „Sure I know Bobby. - I used to spend a lot of time on the yard when John was on hunts ..." He trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing. „You said you have NO relatives?"

Everyone straightened up in their seats.

„I don't. - He wasn't my _real_ uncle. Just someone my mom and dad knew … he fixed our car a couple of times … I think." Sam smiled at the triggering memory, feeling the warmth that spread through him. The love and the happy feelings the old times meant to him …

Dean noted in his mind that he had to ask more questions about Bobby and Sam's parents. No one just KNEW the old man, besides the townspeople themselves.

He'd ask him about Bobby later. He also would visit his old friend. Maybe he would know something important about the kid.

Though he felt confused. Dean had spent half of his life with the man, but haven't ever heard him talk about a Sam, or someone else besides their hunter-friends.

„Anyways … my dad was driving … and it was raining … and the road was slippery. Me and Bones rode in the backseat. My dad lost control over the car and we ended up in a tree." Sam paused. „My parents died that night. Just me and Bones survived. - After a week in hospital … and the lack of relatives … they got me into a children's home. But I wasn't there for long. - Though it wasn't bad there, you know? It was actually pretty nice." He paused again, sucking in a deep breath. „But I wouldn't talk … so they figured it'd be better to give me into a foster family, where they'd have more time for me and stuff … I was there for two years, had started school already … Then the house burned down. Kids died … and … well, they blamed me. They said I started the fire ..."

Castiel leaned forward, his expression pensively. „Why would they think that?"

Dean glanced at his angel-friend and back at their guest, having the same question in his mind.

Sam huffed and shook his head, a sad smile forming on his lips. „Because I warned them … a week before that night. - I told them that there'd be a fire, that people would die …" He gave an ironic chuckle. „But … they didn't believe me. - Hell, I wouldn't have believed myself either. - They had said it was just a nightmare. And when I told my psychiatrist about it a couple of days after the nightmare ... She said, that it was a nightmare too. No one would believe me. So I let it go, i wouldn't even think about it anymore … and I just … I think I just forgot about it. - Like kids do, you know?" Sam exhaled audibly and looked up for a brief moment. „And then there was the fire. Two weeks later. Three of the other kids were dead … among them a baby – Kathy … she was so small and sweet … and -"

„So you actually dreamed that it'd happen?", Dean asked curiously. „Why didn't you tell me that in the motel, when I asked you about weird stuff?" Yeah, he was a little bit pissed. He knew that people didn't like to talk about things like that to strangers … but he had told him, that his life depended on it, didn't he? That it was important. That he needed every possible hint he could get.

Sam just nodded, his gaze glued to the floor between his feet. „Figured you're the kind of guy that gets off on kids-stuff, when you asked me to tell you something about me and my childhood ..."

„What?" Dean's voice pitched high at the very end. „Why would you think that I'd roll that way? Do I look like some weirdo to you?"

„In my line of business you learn about some pretty WEIRD stuff. - Wouldn't be the first time ...", he answered silently. „You wouldn't believe what kinks some people have ..."

A shudder ran up Dean's spine and an expression of disgust settled over his face. - He never thought about THAT … Did the other hookers he had been with thought the same at first? Did they always thought about the possibility of getting into the car of a psycho when they were with him? Or anyone else?

„What did happen then? - Did you stay with the foster family you were at?" Castiel asked after a while of silence.

Sam shook his head. „They thought I've started the fire … - So … they brought me somewhere else. - Another family and … it wasn't bad there either. At least not at the beginning. It was just weird. They had another kid there, _their own_. He was a couple of years older than me and taller ... And … he was a _bastard_. He hated me." Sam's face darkened. „So … one time he was real nice and so … and he actually seemed that he really wanted to be friends with me. But it was just fake. He and his friends were just making a joke on me. - Two weeks after that, the boy and I got into a fight and … we were scuffling and punching each other pretty bad. But I lost … and when I got back to the house, James was already there, and they asked the both of us what happened. - I told them my version of the story … and he told them his. He got a lecture and I got one. Except that James needed to clean up the garage and he got grounded for a week." Sam cleared his throat. „Then there was a fire in the barn of our neighbor and his cattle burned. - There was hardly something left … except …" He swallowed around the lump that was building in his throat.

„Except?", Dean asked, when Sam wouldn't continue.

„Do we really need to do this? - I could tell you about the fact that I DREAMED about the accident, the fire … That James had set the barn on fire to get rid of me. He told them, that he saw me climbing out of the window of our bedroom. That they put me into a psychiatric ward after that where I got a _treatment_ and the dreams stopped. - But then happened something … and I got _special_ _treatment_. And then I took off from there and ended up where you found me.", he babbled, „and you _know_ the rest." Sam looked up, blinking back unshed tears.

„I'm sorry, Sam ..." Castiel rose. „But we need to know. EVERYTHING. - It's important. We might be able to save lives." Then he thought. „But there might be another way ...", he added mumbling, barely hearable. The angel shared a short glance with Kevin and Dean, then he cocked his head to the side. „You look exhausted."

„Sure.", Dean jumped up from the couch. „It's late though …"

Kevin yawned, watching the hooker for a long moment. As no one moved or intended to go anywhere soon, he rose to his feet and shuffled over to the stranger he have had his vision about.

„What about I'm getting you back to your room, so you can lie down?", he asked then, not looking at his friends.

Sam looked up at the gleaming silvery being before him. This Kevin seemed to shine a bit brighter than the others. At least he thought he did.

Sam hesitated nonetheless, but pulled himself up anyways. Kevin went on the other side beside the man and hooked his arm under Sam's. Together they made their way through the main-room and the corridor where their bedrooms were. Kevin then led him inside and into the bathroom, where he let him handle his business.

When the hooker came out, there was Kevin – still waiting. The prophet guided him to the bed, where he sat down. Completely unexpected, Kevin joined him.

„You gotta tell them ...", he said after a while.

Sam looked up, blushing slightly, though he tried to look as if he didn't know what he was talking about.

„Dean found you because of me. - I had a vision of you … and the shadows. You know … all these times when I saw them kill people … it was never that clear when I had the one of you. It was _different_. - I don't know why or how … But I knew that Dean would save you. I knew he'd bring you with." He cleared his throat. „I actually waited for gettin' you alone, you know? - Because I wanted to tell you that … that no matter what you are – or WHAT you think you are … you don't have to do _this_." He watched him closely for a moment, trying to figure out if Sam understood what he meant. - And he did … _hopefully_. „I didn't get asked either if I want to be a prophet or not. I didn't ask for my headaches after my visions. - Hell, I was in advanced placement …" He huffed and chuckled. „Things often go awry. But now I'm here. And I'm not that mad about it anymore. - It's not the worst to live down here in the bunker. I'm alive. I've food, I've water. Hell, I can take a bath if I want, what others can't."

„Did you always had those visions?", Sam asked after a brief moment.

„No no no. - They began when the daevas started to kill people. I've never had them before. Actually I'm able to read god's tablets … but … nothing else – except this. And that's why I want you to think about your deal with Dean. There's something that connects us. There's a reason why I've been having these visions and why the one about you was different. I want to find out what's behind all this … There's a reason why your sight had been taken from you. Why you SEE even if you shouldn't be able to." Kevin smiled a little now. „I BELIEVE that there's some kind of higher force, you know?"

Sam cocked both eyebrows and huffed. „If you're talking about fate … It's a crappy fate. If you're talking about GOD – well, screw him. Screw heaven. Screw Angels and screw demons."

Kevin chuckled. „Yeah … however you want to call it. - Someone up there's really mean to the both of us."

An amused smile formed on Sam's lips. The first one in days. „Thanks ...", he muttered.

„Nothing to thank for, dude." Kevin patted the hooker's knee and stood up. „See you for breakfast?"

Sam nodded. „Breakfast it is."

Kevin was halfway out of the room when he stopped and turned around. „If you need anything … just holler. I'll leave your door open."

* * *

Dean slumped down in the recliner, Sam had been sitting before and wiped over his face with the palm of his right hand, holding a tumbler with whiskey in the other one.

Castiel sat on the couch, his feet resting on the small table before him.

None of them spoke.

„You think you've got enough angel-juice left to do it?", Dean asked after a zip of whiskey.

Castiel shrugged. „Shouldn't be a problem at all for me. - But if i'd do it … we wouldn't need him anymore. - What means, that you would have to make your promise good ..." He answered thoughtfully, gazing at his friend.

Dean nodded to himself and frowned. He didn't want to do that. He didn't want the man to die, even when he didn't know him properly. Just because he couldn't stand the guys presence he didn't have to end up dead, did he?

„I know what it would mean ..." Dean looked up. „But we need to know. - No matter at what costs. Who knows how many like the hooker are out there? And for what purpose they have to die? - It can't be any good when demons are involved in that kind of crap."

Castiel's eyebrows narrowed. „Tell me … is it because he's a whore? Or is it because you don't like him?"

Dean stared at his friend dumbfounded.

„You kind of seem … uncomfortable in his company.", he explained after he didn't get an answer. „Though you suggested to him to stay. - I do not understand you sometimes ..."

Dean chuckled silently … _Angels_. „Don't break your head over that."

Castiel frowned at his hunter-friend. „Then let me at least suggest, that you do not let him feel that you don't like him ..."

* * *

Sam was awake for quite some time, staring ahead into the darkness until his full bladder urged him to get up.

He actually felt a lot better this morning. Sure, his shoulder and chest still hurt and he felt kind of dizzy, but his mood was a better one. He FELT better.

It took Sam quite some time, but he managed to find the door that led into the bathroom to allow him and do his business. He would've loved to take a shower, but he had no clue where he'd find towels, where his back-pack was … what depressed his mood all over again.

When he came back out of the bathroom, there was someone. It wasn't Castiel, or Kevin. The silvery shape – what seemed to be a couple of yards away from him – stood there and seemed to watch him.

It was the hunter.

„Got some sleep?", Dean asked with a slight frown. He had heard him – _all night_. He had already heard him when he had headed down the corridor and into his own bedroom. He had watched him quite some time through the open door, but avoided to make himself noticeable. He wasn't a babysitter after all, was he?

Dean hadn't gotten a lot of sleep either – what might explain his crappy mood.

And it annoyed him.

„Yeah.", Sam answered hesitantly.

Both knew that it was a lie anyway.

„Do you want to continue?", Sam asked then, a little bit hesitant.

Dean sniffed, remembering himself that the man wouldn't recognize a nod. - That alone annoyed him even more. „No … not yet. - I thought ..." He took a few steps forward and closed the door behind him. „... you wanna get cleaned up before. - And get dressed in fresh clothes ..."

Sam sniffed, looking anywhere but Dean. „Yeah … I'd like to …"

„Fine. - Then let's get in there.", he said, moving forward to where Sam stood - impatiently. „I've to check on your wounds anyway ..."

Sam froze for a moment, not able to move. „I can do that by myself."

Dean chuckled, his eyes lighting up in amusement. „You wouldn't find your pants if they'd lie in front of you, dude. - So c'mon let's go.", and with that he turned the man around and shoved him into the bathroom, closing the door behind them without bothering to wait for a respond.

„What are you doin'?", Sam blurted out, trying to reorient himself, trying to grab onto something he was able to recognize.

„I'm gonna help you." The hunter tossed towels into the sink and headed back out to get a set of fresh clothes from the back-pack.

Minutes later he was back in the bathroom, eying the man, who stood there. Pale and trembling, holding onto the sink with one hand.

Dean wanted nothing more than getting this over with. Kevin had made himself rare and Castiel had vanished into his green house after the question appeared who would help Sam with _this kind _of things. And the hunter actually didn't want to … _This was so not his job. _

„Dude … - C'mon. Get your clothes off. I don't have all day." He stared daggers at the hooker, not understanding what his problem was. Sam had to be used to get undressed in front of someone else, didn't he?

_Yeah_ … Dean Winchester was one grumpy ass this morning.

Sam hesitated. This was so not how he had imagined all this. It felt humiliating.

It was one thing to get all naked for a client who paid him for it. - But the cleaning up afterwards (if it was even possible) he had always done alone … by _himself_. Saving a little of the dignity he had left. Getting the filthiness off of himself, _alone_.

„It's okay … you … you don't have to help me." Sam heard the annoyance in the hunter's voice. ... _I'd rather die than do this in front of you … watching me … _

„Don't be a girl.", Dean teased, his words sharp like the bowie-knife in the hilt between his calf and the boot. „Ain't like you haven't done such a thing yet."

His word's meaning not staying unnoticed by Sam. His heart sank. _It hurt_. So bad. Right now he was way less worth than out on the streets. And the hunter let him feel it. - _Would_ let him feel it. Out on the strip he had been the same as the others had. Bun in here? With those men? - Here he was just LESS worth.

Like the _whore_ he was.

The hunter stood there, leaning against the closed door, not noticing what his words were doing to the man before him. The only thing he saw was his anger. The annoyance that came after he hadn't got enough sleep, have had to listen to the guy's heart-tearing whimpers all annoyance about himself, because he didn't want to play babysitter or nurse. He just didn't want to care about the man. He already had enough of that shit, hadn't he? Hadn't that been enough? He hated the feeling of feeling responsible for Sam. Because being responsible always involved some kind of attraction. And Dean Winchester didn't want to feel attracted to someone or something.

He had his family. He had Cas, Kev and Bobby. There was no room for someone else – even when the bunker HAD in fact more room as the three of them could ever use.

„What's it gonna be?" Dean's voice was hard. „I don't want you to stink out the bunker."

_Nope_ – he couldn't be bothered to act nice today. His anger needed a valve – in today's case it was going to be Sam _obviously_.

Sam's hand slid from the rim of the sink and he slowly started to peel himself out of his clothes with shaky hands.

„A little bit faster maybe?" The hunters voice was impatient and cold.

Sam unbuckled the belt and flung the button of his jeans open, stripping them down. Holding onto the sink with one hand as he did so. When he remained in his boxers, he stood there, glancing at the hunter insecurely.

„I'd be fine.", Sam said with small voice. „I can do it by myself."

„Yeah – and then you're gonna trip over your long legs (wich actually looked damn gorgeous) and bump your head on the tiles. - I'm gonna need you a little bit longer than this." He cleared his throat. „You can do whatever you want when Cas' done with you."

Sam swallowed back a sob, his eyes tearing up again. Did he honestly deserve this? He wondered if the hunter would be different to him if he'd been one of the other victims and not what he actually was …

Sam sucked in his lower lip and bit down on it – hard, drawing blood.

He felt the hunter walking past behind him and then the sound of water was heard.

The hooker shed his boxers, facing away from the hunter to hide his front from him.

„Turn around.", the hunter commanded.

Sam shook his head slightly, staring at the floor.

„I need to check on your wounds. - Turn around.", he repeated, trying to sound a bit more friendly this time. Somehow he hated himself at the moment … or was it Sam he didn't like?

_Oh god_ …_ when the hell would that be over?_ So Sam turned around since he figured that disobeying wasn't very wise. He felt a rough hand on his shoulder and the bandage got ripped off in one go.

Dean eyed the stitched up gashes for a moment longer and then he looked up at the younger man, looking him into the face for the first time this morning. - Really looking, not just stealing glances.

His anger slowly fading … „Turn around." His voice was softer now, but the grip on the man's shoulder still a little bit too tight.

Dean shoved him into the shower and under the spray of water.

Sam flinched away from the sudden contact with the over-warm fluid, but adjusted quickly to it. He hadn't even wetted his hair properly, when he felt something cold on the top of his head.

„Shampoo.", he heard the hunter say.

Sam lathered his hair richly and moved back under the spray of water. The mixture of soap and hot water burning and stinging in his wounds. He then lathered up the rest of himself and rinsed it off again quickly.

„You done?", Dean asked with insecurity in his voice.

Sam nodded and stepped back from the spray, letting the man turn the water off.

The hunter thrusted a towel into Sam's hands and watched him as he dried himself off.

Slowly – ever so slowly – his anger drained away from him. And all that was left then, was the guilt and shame about himself. About treating Sam like he had done. He told himself that he didn't even know WHY he acted that way. Though deep down he knew anyway. - Because Sam had the special gift to dig his way into the hunter's heart. The hooker didn't even have to talk to do so. It was the way he was moving, he was smelling, the hundreds of shades of green his hazel-eyes owned.

He actually felt _sorry_ … Dean hadn't meant to be that much of a dick. He hadn't meant to hurt the man. It wasn't exactly his fault that he was in the condition he was in right now.

As Sam stepped out of the shower, he didn't feel the cold tiles beneath his feet. There was a soft fabric caressing his soles.

Sam hurried up to drie off his feet after a short moment of wondering, until he decided that a soft towel wasn't worth to get bitched at again. When he was done, he held the towel before his front, so that his torso and his upper thighs were hidden.

Dean put on a new bandage then, keeping his mouth shut before something else would have a chance to spill over his lips. He already regretted what he had said earlier. So there was no reason to make it any worse for the both of them.

„Could I … Maybe … you could ...", he stammered silently, glancing at the hunter.

That was when he felt the towel ripped away from him and something got slipped over his head. Sam quickly recognized that it had to be a long-sleeved shirt and tugged his arms through it. He then felt a soft tip at his right foot and he lifted it, feeling a thin fabric being pulled up. Then there was a tip to his left one and Sam lifted it. He felt the fabric being pulled up over his calves on both sides, thighs and his hip. - He then finally realized that it had to be boxers.

The same procedure followed, as Dean got him dressed into a pair of fresh jeans and socks.

When they were done, Sam felt strong fingers wrapping around his wrist and he got pulled out of the bathroom and led to the bed.

„Sit tight.", the hunter said and with that he was gone.

* * *

Castiel got the bread out of the stove and placed it on a grate to let it cool off, as he heard heavy pissed footfalls from behind. - U_nmistakably Dean._

„I want you to do it.", he heard Dean say. Nothing more, nothing less.

Surprised, the angel turned around to face his friend, who had went streight for their storage of booze, pouring himself whiskey into a glass and gulping it down before Castiel had even a chance to say something.

Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to make himself rare. Maybe he should've gone to Sam and help him. Maybe he had screwed it up. Actually it had been such a great idea – he _had_ figured.

„What happened?" His voice was calm, but the expression on his face confused.

„Just do it. - I'm going to visit Bobby. Asking him if he remembers a kid called Sam.", he said, locking his gaze with the angel. „I want you both to be done with the mind-melting thing when I'm back tonight."

Castiel opened his mouth to say something.

„Tonight, Cas.", and with that Dean stormed out of the kitchen.

The angel tossed the rag onto the cupboard and sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. „You know I can not function under great pressure!", he shouted after him.

But it was no use – Dean Winchester was gone.

…_... to be continued_

* * *

okay, i know some of you guys were waiting for a bit of Sam's past.

don't you worry. I packed it up in the next chapter ;)

…. well, and since I do like reviews very very much … may I could get some?

Or BACON? Or … PEANUTBUTTER-CUPS?


	8. Chapter 8 Bad Ideas

**THAT'S IT :) **

you will learn something about Sam in this chapter. So hold on – maybe you'll need tissues? I totally didn't.

Because I got SOOO MANY awesome reviews I had to update earlier ^^

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 8 ~ Bad Ideas**_

THEN:

_Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to make himself rare. Maybe he should've gone to Sam and help him. Maybe he had screwed it up. Actually it had been such a great idea – he ____had__ figured._

„_What happened?" His voice was calm, but the expression on his face confused._

„_Just do it. - I'm going to visit Bobby. Asking him if he remembers a kid called Sam.", he said, locking his gaze with the angel. „I want you both to be done with the mind-melting thing when I'm back tonight."_

_Castiel opened his mouth to say something._

„_Tonight, Cas.", and with that Dean stormed out of the kitchen._

_The angel tossed the rag onto the cupboard and sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. „You know I can not function under great pressure!", he shouted after him._

_But it was no use – Dean Winchester was gone._

* * *

NOW:

Castiel knocked on the wooden-door and entered without being invited. He stepped inside carefully, his gaze swept through the room, getting caught on the huddled up form on the bed. Sam sat curled up, with his back against the headboard, his face buried between his knees.

„Sam?", he asked, as he narrowed slowly.

The man looked in his direction, wet eyes staring up at the angel, as he stopped beside the bed.

„What happened?" Castiel sat down on the edge and scooted back towards the headboard until he was right beside Sam.

„Could we just get over with it?", Sam asked silently.

„Not before you told me what happened." Castiel needed to know what he was blamable for, since he felt sorry for Dean's bad acting. He knew exactly how the hunter was when he didn't cope well with something. When he was bothered. And Dean actually seemed to be bothered by close to everything lately.

Then there was silence.

„Why does he hate me that much?", the hooker asked after a long while. „He didn't seem that disgusted when he picked me up … but now?" He looked at the hunter with big round and wet hazel-green eyes. Like a puppy-dog. Or even worse: A hurt puppy-dog.

Castiel sighed deeply, taking his time to choose the right words. „It is hard to tell. - I don't know about Dean's feelings. I sure don't know a lot about human feelings in general." He hesitated. „I think he is just scared."

Sam huffed and shook his head, clearly not believing what he heard.

„What is so funny about someone who is scared?", the angel asked confused.

„He was an ass." Sam sniffed and wiped with his sleeve over his cheeks and nostrils. „He didn't act like he was _scared_. He behaved as if he was _pissed off_."

Castiel cocked both eyebrows. „Well … that sounds a lot like Dean is lately."

„Can we get over it now?", Sam asked. „I just want to get it done so I can be alone again. Just make this mind-melting-angel-thing, okay?"

That was when an Idea started to form in the back of the angel's mind.

* * *

The angel sat on the edge of the bed, eying the human.

Sam laid flat on his back, his eyes closed, his breaths even and deep.

„This might feel unpleasant.", the angel informed him quietly, „But I assure you, It won't hurt."

Sam gave him a short nod, his eyes opening, looking directly at the man beside him. He then closed his eyes again, resting his hands on his stomach.

Castiel laid his hand on Sam's cheek, the fingertips of his index and middle-finger resting on his temple. The angel's eyes fluttered closed and he leaned forward, mumbling enochian words into the younger male's ear.

And then he dove deep into the man's mind, making his way through confusion, despair and fear until he found the thin string of memories he was looking for.

The angel let himself being carried away with it, memorizing everything Sam was willing to show him. He didn't just memorize the pictures and events he saw through the human's eyes, also his physical and emotional feels. He let himself being guided through the man's past until the very present day. Seeing, hearing, feeling all what Sam had _felt_, _heard_ and _seen_.

Some parts of it were simply overwhelming for the angel. Of some aspects he was utterly disgusted. Not by Sam – _no_. Disgusted by what the human had to do to survive ever since he had broken free from the psychiatric ward. Disgusted by the people he had met and the advantage they took of him.

Besides that … there was something lingering behind Sam's memories. - As if they were incomplete. Memories the human should have, things he should remember – but couldn't. As if they were locked away, buried deep down in his mind. Castiel had dared to scratch at the thin walls of what should stay hidden until the human ceased to exist.

Of course he had scratched. He wouldn't be a stoned angel if he hadn't at least tried to get the information that was hidden behind the dam. _But then_ … then he had pulled back, had left them be. He didn't know why these memories were where they were. SO he decided to leave it be for the moment. He decided to talk about it with Sam before he'd break a dam he didn't know what lay behind.

When Castiel finally arrived in the very second he had joined him, he broke the connection. The angel's eyes fluttered open and a deep frown creased his forehead. He watched the human's face. Saw a tear that made its way down from the corner of Sam's left eye.

Castiel touched the human's temple once more, whispering a hoarse „_sleep_", before he got up and pulled a blanket over him. He stayed for a few more minutes, watching over Sam, before he left the room behind.

He needed to clear his head, needed to get some distance between himself and the human's emotions and memories. He needed to gather strength – or as the hunter would call it: mojo – to do what he was going to do.

* * *

Dean Winchester came back late that night. With new informations (wich actually could bring them further.) and a new determination in his mind: Getting the hooker out of the bunker and bringing him on Robert Singer's Salvage.

Bobby had told him about Sam's family. About the night when they had the accident.

The Campbells had headed to Bobby's because of strange things that had happened lately. Things that had happened with Sam. Things, psychologists and doctors had no clue about. And the Campbells knew about the hunter's-business. So after everything wouldn't work, they truly considered that there had to be something special about their kid. That it wasn't some sickness, or disorder …

Because Sam saw things. - Told mommy when she put him to bed, that he would see that their neighbor was a bad man. That he had black eyes and a dark soul. He told her about the old lady that used to feed Bones doggy-sweets. That she had a second face (a really disgusting one), but that she was a good person.

So Bobby told them to hang on, to tell Sam that it was alright. That he'd get to the bottom of this and that he'd call as soon as he would know something to help the small family.

But he never got the chance to do so … because that was the night of the accident. And when Bobby heard about the accident and that Sam was gone, he had tried to get the custody over the small chubby guy … and got _dismissed_. Since he had figured that it wasn't a good thing to leave the kid to someone else who hadn't a clue about what could possibly wait out there for him, he had tried to fight for it.

But as a lone man, without a wife and own children. With a scrap-yard. And known as old drunk in town he didn't stand a chance.

So he had to let it go … at least for the time being. And then … after the kid was given into a foster family, he had lost track of the small guy.

These informations were a small step forward. Dean just wondered why Sam hadn't mention that fact the day before … That he completely missed out the fact that he had to be a psychic, that he had seen things when he was a kid.

And that was probably just that … he had been a kid. Maybe he didn't remember. Didn't remember any of it …

Anyway. Castiel had surely finished that mind-melting-angel-brain-trick on Sam and they wouldn't have to bother that guy anymore. They'd know everything.

So that both of them would have their peace back (mostly for Dean's sake). He'd be safe at Bobby's. Everyone ever was safe there. Saver as with him.

But he didn't count on his angel-friend. He didn't see THAT coming. Wouldn't have in a lifetime.

* * *

THIS COULD POSSIBLY BE TRIGGERING.

DON'T READ THE CURSIVE PART OF THE NEXT CHAPTER, IF YOU'RE SENSIBLE TO ABUSE, RAPE, VIOLENCE, IT ALSO CONTAINS DETAILS ABOUT MAJOR ADULT-CONTENT!

* * *

Dean tossed his duffel on the table in the library and yawned. Six hundred miles in one day, including the ranting of the old man – and a lecture in how to treat others – was enough for one day. Hell, the old man had _ranted_. But he had finally given in in taking care of the hooker (because Dean couldn't bring himself to think about the man as SAM. - Thinking about him by his name just made this even more nastier than it already was. Thinking about SAM meant that there was some kind of connection already. - A connection (even when it was a tender one) he didn't want to have.

„I'm sorry, Dean.", he heard a faint noise behind him – and then everything went black.

Everything was _gone_. The library, the bunker … his _body_. It felt like flooding, like getting washed away. And though he felt safe and warm. He felt protected.

_Something smooth and wet slobbered all over his face. He heard himself chuckle – more or less. Dean couldn't remember sounding like that. He had never sounded like that … That was when he figured that it wasn't himself right then. _

_His eyes opened, without being commanded to do so. And he saw a giant golden redriver hovering over him, licking criss cross over his face, slobbering him full from scalp to chin. _

_He was happy. So happy. He hadn't felt like that in a lifetime. So this definitely wasn't him. He had never seen the dog before, nor the woman and the man who where there now. _

_Big hands lifted him up from the ground and he felt the warmth and love radiating from the blonde haired woman. His tiny fingers buried in the soft locks as he heard himself mumble a „love you, momma."_

_The very next moment he found himself on the backseat of a car. He looked forward, between the driver's and passenger's seat. His angle was a bit awkward, as if he was too short … He looked at his right side and saw the dog again and heard himself giggle like a six-year-old. He felt himself reaching for the dog's head and petting it._

_Pretty soon Dean realized that he had no control over what he was doing, nor what was happening right then … and realization dawned on him._

_But before he was able to get to the right conclusion, the car broke out of its lane, it spun and turned and finally – with a breathtaking impact – it came to a hold on the car-top, against a giant old oak. Dean felt himself hanging in the seatbelt, head down. He heard the dog whine and he instantly felt his eyes tearing up. Felt his heart sink as he called for momma and daddy and as they wouldn't respond. He saw the blood, the awkward angle in wich his mom hung in the seat-belt, empty eyes staring in the direction where his father was. _

_Tears streamed down his face now, feeling everything the little boy felt, seeing everything the little boy saw. _

_The very next moment he found himself no longer in a car. He was in a room where six beds stood. The one beside him – with a suitcase on it – was marked with the name SAMMY. He was alone now – felt like he was all on his own in the entire world. _

_His tiny heart shattered into pieces. _

_Then he got ripped away from the room and the bed and ended up in front of a burning house. The smell of blazing wood and flesh burned in his nose. Voices were yelling children's names. Children that still were inside. _

_He watched as the red flames licked high into the night sky above the roof. _

_His heart clenched tight, as someone gripped him at his wrist and pulled him with behind the cordon and the cars. It was a woman, her face stained black and red and her eyes filled with despair and disappointment. She asked him something, her voice was calm and smooth … and then came this man. A big man. So much bigger than he himself._

_The man yelled at him – he was in a fury. He slapped the boy across the face – violently – so that he landed on the cold concrete, his hands and face burning from the cold and the impact. _

_He slammed his eyes shut and the yells faded slowly, the smell of burning wood and flesh faded and he saw light through his tight shut lids. Someone was urging him into a car, pushing him into the backseat with gentle force. _

_The woman's face from the night before was wet with tears, her eyes red and swollen and dark circles under them as if she hadn't slept in days … _

_He felt the deep sadness, the hurt, the feeling of being misunderstood. He hadn't done anything bad, had he? He just had wanted to warn them about the fire. And now it was his fault? His alone? _

_He was the one with blood on his hands … _

_When he emerged from the darkness he was surrounded by five boys. Definitely bigger than him. They were laughing at him, and calling him a freak. _

_His eyes fluttered shut for a moment and when he opened them the next time, there was this boy. Surely a couple of years older than him. Red hair and bright blue cool eyes, looking jealously at him. The kid's jaw was bruised and there was a hematoma around his right eye. He himself felt sore all over. The nose hurt, his jaw hurt … everything just __hurt__. _

_The scene faded again – into night … and fire … and then there was nothing. Just white. Pure white. _

_A room formed slowly around him. A white room, a barred window and a simple white iron-bed. A sink in the right corner of the room and a door with a small window in it. He walked outside of the room into a long corridor. _

_Girls and boys, barely older than he had to be, walking around zombie-like or sitting in wheelchairs. Everyone seemed dazed or high. Some where yelling, screaming in agony or weeping from the depths of their souls. He felt the despair, the fear … the GUILT. _

_Then there was blood … white sheets covered in blood, and shock. He stared through foreigner's eyes onto a girls pale – halfnaked – form. Her arms sliced open from the elbows to her wrists. _

_That was when he felt himself dragged away – fear rising deep inside him all over again._

_The thought it had been him, that it had been his fault. That he had done something bad to the girl … _

_He blinked and found himself bound to a stretcher, fixed by his wrists and ankles. His chest and stomach strapped down on the portable bed. A old man's face lingered above him, talking to him, telling him that he was going to heal him, that he would make him better … but he didn't believe a single one of the old man's words. _

_They put something on his temples and forehead. Someone let him bite down a piece of plastic and then agonizing pain lanced through him from tip to toe. It ripped through him like electrifying fire, tearing him apart from the inside … Making his head hurt badly._

_He heard himself scream in mind-blowing agony, heard himself beg and cry … until he faded away into darkness ever so slowly … _

_It was night. It was cold. And he was running. Running for dear live. His breaths came in short erratic pants, as he made his way through the darkness over the wet grass. Dogs were barking, he heard voices yelling. An alarm went off in the building to the left of him. He needed to get faster, needed to get away. _

_He glanced back over his shoulder, letting the high-wrought iron fence behind him. _

_A last look at the shield above the main-entrance of the building, wich read _Mental Hospital for dangerously disturbed Children & Young Adults_, and he disappeared into the darkness of the night. _

_It felt like he was starving and he was hurting. A sharp pain was radiating through his skull. He didn't know how long it had been since he had last slept. He just knew he had to eat and drink. Had to find a place to hole up for a couple of days … _

… _and he did. _

_In the storm cellar of a farm. - Where he was found by the owner three days later, who called the police and an ambulance. But before they arrived, he got away. The fear and agony of what he had suffered in that clinic was still too fresh. He didn't want to go back there – and they'd do just that. He was a dangerous teenager, capable of horrible wouldn't let him go. And he'd rather die than going back there. So he took the chance and ran … AGAIN._

_The next thing he knew was, that he was naked … in a bathroom. He looked into a mirror, taking in his young face. The face Dean saw … so familiar … so young. Barely sixteen. Big innocent green hazel-eyes looking back at him. He blew out a deep sigh, feeling the tension that crept up his limps slowly. Then he sucked in another breath – a deep one – and blew it out again, getting himself ready. The kid that looked pretty serious at first, smiled now. Bright dimples spreading across his face, rose lips forming into a thin line as he did so. - Just his eyes weren't smiling. _

_He turned around towards the door – still wearing his smile – and went through it, where he found himself in a giant bedroom. All velvet and silk. Dark red sheets and pillows, on wich a naked woman laid sprawled out, smiling at the boy. Her black hair laid in soft curls over her marble-white skin. Deep red lips curling up a little bit more at the sight of the boy. _

_She waved at him, telling him to come closer … and Dean didn't need to be shown what came next._

_When they were done, she gave him a bundle of money, a calling card, a soft kiss on his nose and told him to get dressed and the hell out of the apartment before her husband would come back home from work. _

_Despite the fact that Dean felt what the boy felt … would it have been about him, he would've heaved his lunch right up on the dark-red carpet before her feet. But it wasn't him. It was __Sam__. __Sam__ who had found a way to earn money. Sam, who felt like the filthiest thing on earth … _

_What he endured next was pain … what he saw next were dirty tiles … what he felt were rough giant hands on him, leaving bruises on his hips and wrists … _

_The woman had found someone else – someone younger to do his job. He had gotten too old for her, but gladly there were still people who loved to bang a pretty minor's ass or cock in the restroom of a truck stop somewhere in nowhere … _

_From then on it were truckers, travelers or hunters (male and female), threesomes, gang bangs … some loved to beat the shit out of him (but paid well for it … or even not). Some where real bastards, others weren't that bad. Some liked it when he wore special clothes … _

_One scene faded into another … some painful and humiliating … some not that bad at all… until it came ahead to the day – the day the world was damned to end. _

_He was running. Running for dear life. A handgun in his left hand, and a knife in his right, shooting and slicing his way through running walkers – wich all were after his flesh and blood. _

_Between running, fighting and trying not to get ripped into shreds, he finally made it into a town. People were running, where fleeing. _

_On the bed of a pickup truck with seven other people, they took off towards Detroit._

_When they finally arrived the city three days later … there was just the driver, a girl and he left … _

_Soon it was clear, that he wouldn't stand a chance on the strip without a pimp. - This guy - Hank – was ruling the damn district ever since the walkers raided town. He was the one who let build up the walls and hired the guards. _

_He was the one who promised safety. _

_He was the one who promised pain and agony to his hookers when they wouldn't pay their debts. _

_It came ahead to the day, where he walked towards a sleek black car, with a handsome guy behind the steering wheel. _

_Then there was a searing pain in his shoulder and chest and everything went dark. - Too dark._

_Then the scene jumped to the one, where he was pinned to the floor by someone. He felt the fear about what could possibly happen to him. The fear about the fact that it wasn't just one … that there were three beings with him. What they could possibly do to him. Where he yelled at the person to let him go, to get off of him … and again everything started to fade into nothingness._

_So Castiel jumped towards this one morning in the bunker … Dean saw himself through Sam's eyes – the silvery gleaming strands of energy. He saw the darkness, and the dim light that had to be his soul. He heard himself through Sam's ears, heard the anger in his own voice, felt the fear grow. Felt the said words burn into his mind and stab painfully into his heart through his soul. _

_He felt alone … unwanted … just like in the foster family … he felt like a freak … he felt filthy and dirty … He felt like __**SAM**__._

Dean Winchester's eyes flashed open. First he wasn't able to breathe, it was like all oxygen had left his lungs at once. He felt the wetness on his cheeks, felt violent tremors wrecking his body, as he found himself curled up on the wooden floor in the middle of the library beside one of the tables.

Castiel squat next to him, wiping over his nose and lips, brushing away red fluid with the back of his hand.

The angel's eyes were dazed and a bit unfocused – close to when he was stoned. But this time he wasn't. He had been clean – wanted to be clean to do this.

The angel sat back on his heels, panting, holding his head with both hands. Everything a bit too much for one day …

Instead of words, there were just pained whimpers coming over the hunter's lips. He sucked in a wheezing breath, curling tighter into himself, mumbling a faint „_Oh god_" over and over again …

It was just then when all the hooker's emotions and his own claimed him, washing over him like a wave of fear, pain, despair and guilt, mixed with white anger …

The hunter sucked in another wheezing breath, his face screwed up in pain and emotions in an intensity he hadn't ever felt in his life before.

Loud footfalls were narrowing and someone fell on his knees before the hunter, laying his hand on the man's bicep.

Dean flinched away. He didn't want to be touched. Not just now. Maybe not ever again.

„What happened?", Kevin's look snapped at Castiel, worry clouding his words. His look darted back at his angel-friend. „Cas?" Then back at the Winchester. „Dean?"

Castiel looked up. „He'll be okay, Kevin.", he panted, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. „It'll pass."

Kevin stared at the angel in confusion, letting his hand rest on the trembling man beneath him. Ever since he knew the hunter, he had never seen him like _this_.

* * *

And it passed. An hour later, Dean was back on his feet and having his fifth tumbler, filled to the rim with bourbon. He haven't looked at Castiel ever since he regained control over his body and mind back. He haven't looked at anyone. Neither he had been able to look at himself in the mirror as he went to splash some cold water into his face – wanted to wash away the dried moisture of tears …

Dean Winchester hadn't left a word about what he had seen. He hadn't talked to anyone. Hadn't listen to anyone. He just sat at the top of the cupboard and was about to pour the rest of the bottle into his glass.

And he didn't feel a damn thing. - Not even a little. At least from the alcohol. It didn't work. Not this time. He couldn't wash the emotions away, that still clung to him.

All that he felt was … was what SAM had felt. The emotions still lingered deep inside him. Still clawing at him … ripping him apart from the inside.

And it hurt. _So bad._

* * *

Two hours later, Dean Winchester lay sprawled out on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Three hours later, Dean Winchester hadn't moved just a little bit from the position he was in.

Four hours later, Dean Winchester blinked for the first time, getting his grip onto reality back again.

Five hours later, Dean Winchester stormed into the green house, punching Castiel in the face with all the force he had left.

Six hours later, Dean Winchester stood before Sam's room, trying to decide wherever to go in … or rather not.

…_... to be continued_

* * *

_leave me some BACON? :P  
_

_c'mon guys, I've earned some, huh? I've updated in close to no time ^^_


	9. Chapter 9 Because We Are

_**THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO: **_

wilddracarys

_**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HONEY!**_

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 9 ~ Because We Are **_

THEN:

_Two hours later, Dean Winchester lay sprawled out on his bed, staring at the ceiling._

_Three hours later, Dean Winchester hadn't moved just a little bit from the position he was in._

_Four hours later, Dean Winchester blinked for the first time, getting his grip onto reality back again._

_Five hours later, Dean Winchester stormed into the green house, punching Castiel in the face with all the force he had left._

_Six hours later, Dean Winchester stood before Sam's room, trying to decide wherever to go in … or rather not._

* * *

NOW:

The Winchester hadn't entered Sam's room. Because he couldn't. He knew he had screwed up with the younger man's feelings. He HAD DELIBERATELY hurt him to push him away. To destroy every single chance for any kind of feelings wich might could have developed between the both of them. To make sure, that Sam would push HIM away, if Dean would try anything (against his intentions). But instead of hating the hunter, Sam high likely objected the whole thing onto himself. As if Sam was the problem right now …

Just because Dean Winchester wasn't capable of getting his shit together.

Instead of apologizing to Sam, he took a hot shower, scrubbing his skin raw. He scrubbed it as raw as his soul felt right then. His mind was so full of thoughts … and though he wasn't able to think.

He didn't feel like himself – not at the least. He felt like someone else. Like **SAM**.

Sure he had lost people he had loved, had been to hell, had done things he wasn't proud of. But he had never been pushed to do, what the kid had to survive. Literally SURVIVE. That fact demanded deep respect.

Because he wasn't sure if he possibly would have been able to sell himself to someone else – not for all the food or money in the world. He'd rather steal or kill or starve.

Dean Winchester had never wasted a thought about _how_ the women and men he had been with became hookers. He had never even tried to think about how they felt about being what they were. He had – in fact – thought, that these people liked their job _somehow_. That they had _chosen_ that.

Of course it wouldn't have changed a thing about their lifestyle and business, no matter what Dean thought about them. - But it would've changed the way he had acted around them in the past. It would have changed the way he thought about them, looked at them.

He would've even shown them some more respect.

They surely wouldn't have been just playmates back then. NOW he would think twice before hiring a whore. He wasn't even sure if he would ever be able to pick a prostitute up ever again …

Hell, Dean wasn't even sure if he had treated them like humans. - These people had always been kind of commodity to him. Nothing more … nothing less.

Sure he hadn't been abusive or something – it had always been regular stuff. But maybe … being a bit mor friendly wouldn't have hurt anyone. _Would it?_ It had always just been about picking them up, fucking them into the mattress, and throwing them out (like literally throwing them out). He had never cared where they came from, or where they were going afterwards. NEVER. Because he hadn't cared. He _honestly_ hadn't cared.

Because it was their job to walk the dark streets without any kind of protection. It was their job to be available at all times. Prostitutes didn't need someone to look after them, did they?

But now? Hell … now he wouldn't ever be able to look at them the same way again. EVER. He wouldn't be able to look at SAM the way he had before.

Damning the damn angel for doing that to him. For showing him stuff he didn't want to know.

When he was done with cursing on the angel, on Kevin (for just being Kevin), on the world, on himself and pretty everything he could possibly curse on, he turned the shower off, dried off and got dressed. A short glance at the small watch on his nightstand showed him that it was already eight in the morning.

He then went into the kitchen, where Castiel and Kevin were having their breakfast. Dean nodded them a good morning and poured himself some coffee into a mug, adding four spoons of sugar.

Actually they didn't get coffee – just on Sundays, so they would get along with what they had stored, so it'd reach out longer.

Dean didn't sit down, nor said a word. The other both were silent too. No one looked at the other one. It was an awkward silence.

Kevin picked around in his scrambled eggs. He actually was the first one who dared to speak up. „Sam's up already. - He didn't want to join us anyway … guess he didn't want to get in your way." The prophets last words were said in a challenging way. As if something had pissed him off before.

Dean looked up. Dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep and the events of the previous twenty-four hours. He rubbed over his stubble and cleared his throat.

„Anyone saw my shaving-kit?", he asked finally, his voice raw. It didn't sound reproachful … more casual and completely not like the hunter.

Kevin nearly choked on a crumble of egg. No one took Dean Winchester's property without permission. Not even an angel or a prophet. „I'm sorry … I … I borrowed it from you for Sam. - He asked me for a razor … but you know … I'm always borrowing yours. - And he really looked like he could use a shave ...", he tried to explain. Big dark brown eyes gazing at the hunter warily, obviously expecting reprisals.

Dean rose his left hand, emptying his mug. „It's fine. - I wanted to go and talk to the kid anyway ..."

Both men at the table looked up, cocking their eyebrows.

Castiel laid his fork aside, swallowing down the eggs before he spoke. „I don't know if that's a good idea, Dean."

The hunter glared at his friend.

„Are you intending to hit me again?", the angel asked instantly, showing his bruised yaw as if to remember him.

„You deserved it." Dean pushed away from the cupboard. „And I deserved what you did.", he added, before he left the room with hunched over shoulders.

* * *

There he was again. Standing in front of Sam's leaned-on door, trying to get himself to enter.

He had to apologize, had to tell him how sorry he was. This time not because he thought he had to. This time he WANTED to. He just didn't know how … how to apologize for how he had acted towards him. Because a simple „_sorry_" wouldn't cut it – and he knew it.

So he laid his flat palm onto the door and pushed it open slowly, lurking into the room. A single look inside told him, that it was empty … that Sam still had to be in the bathroom. Hesitantly, Dean walked inside on silent heels, sitting down on the bed.

He wouldn't leave before he had told him. So he sat there … and waited … and sat there … and waited some more.

It was too silent. There was no running water, no shuffling of fabric … _just nothing. _

The hunter's eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. He slowly rose from the bed, glaring at the bathroom-door intensely.

Maybe he had left the room? Had taken the wrong direction, so he wouldn't end up in the library, but somewhere downstairs in the archive? He couldn't have taken the way towards the kitchen. _First_: Because Dean thought Sam wouldn't be able to make his way over there. _Second_: Because he would've seen him.

„Sam?", he asked, taking a step towards the bathroom and listened again.

Dean went over to the door.

It was closed.

But not locked.

„I'm comin' in now.", he warned the younger man – just in case.

So he laid his hand on the door-knob and turned it slowly, letting it slide out of the lock and nudged it open.

At the picture before him, his eyes went wide, his face paled and he sucked in a strangled breath.

_Sam_ … in the corner of the shower. One leg stretched out, the other one bent and leaning against the white tiles. Head lolled back and slightly to the side, resting against the tiles at the back. Both arms exposed, resting in his lab, two deep long gashes on either side. Blood pumping out of them in the shallow rhythm of his heartbeat. Dean's cut-throat razor laying limply in Sam's right hand.

Dean burst forward a split moment later, falling to his knees before the man, pulling towels from the retainer while he did so.

There already was so much blood. _TOO much blood. _

„Hey!", Dean called out. „You with me there?" He wrapped one of the towels around the man's left lower arm. „Sam?"

The hooker's eyes opened lazily – his hazel-eyes dull and unfocused. „_Go away …_", his voice barely a whisper.

The razor slid from Sam's hand and landed on the tiles with a _cling_.

„Can't do that." Dean hurried up to wrap the second towel around his other arm and pressed down on both of them – HARD.

Sam tried to pull away, but wasn't able to. „_Go away .._.", he muttered again, „_Leave me alone ..._"

„Sorry.", Dean pressed down on both arms even harder. „No way." He lurked over his shoulder towards the open door.

He felt a warm wetness soak through the fabric of his jeans, where he kneeled in a pool of scarlet between the taller man's legs.

„CAS!", he yelled. „CAS! Get your stoned feathery ass over here!"

Sam blew out a shuddering „_No_". He WAS trying to make his point.

But the hunter didn't give a rat's ass about it. He just pressed down harder, glaring at Sam in pure white fury.

All that counted now was TIME. It was running out for the hunter, what made Sam smile a little actually. _He'd win_. For the first time in his life he'd win and no one would be able to change that. No pimp. No client. No prophet. No angel. And for damn sure NO HUNTER.

Footfalls thumped down the corridor. Sam could hear them. They were coming closer. And finally they arrived.

Sam heard a gasped „_holy fucking shit"_, that definitely belonged to the prophet. A disapproving „_huh_" that seemed to come from the angel, and a „_Don't just stare, damn it! I need some damn help over here!_" that for sure was the hunter. Though Sam couldn't make out what they were talking anymore.

The world around him was already fading. And it felt good. For the first time in a long time he felt at peace …

„Aside.", was all that Castiel said.

Dean obeyed, without questioning his friend.

* * *

_Two hours later …... _

Dean Winchester felt drained.

Though he just sat in the chair, staring at the man on the bed. Still pale, but alive. Breathing, but not awake. _Yet_.

Dean Winchester – actually – hadn't have a clue about what to do next. He didn't know what to do with a guy on a suicidal trip. Because that was what it was. And he had just made it worse. With treating him like he wasn't worth it.

He must've had triggered something … must've had pushed him into doing this. It was all his fault. _His alone._ He couldn't blame Kevin, who just wanted to try to make the man feel comfortable, where he had failed. He couldn't blame Castiel for not checking on him – even when he had been in the man's head hours before. He just had wanted to give Sam privacy and free will.

He couldn't blame Sam either, because he was the last one to blame anyway … life had made him into what he was.

The only one he was able to blame was himself. So he – at least – thought. Because all of this wouldn't have happened, if someone would've been with him, would've looked out for him.

What drove his thoughts further. What let him think about of how many of the prostitutes he'd been with in the past four years were actually still alive? How many had died somewhere, somehow … all on their own, because there had been no one who had cared?

First he had thought about binding the man to the bed – so he wouldn't be able to get up and doing such a stupid thing again. But that was the John in the Winchester thinking. Because the OLD Dean would've never done such a thing.

He would've never done a lot of the things he had in the past four years. The Dean in the Winchester would take care that something like that wouldn't happen again. Without restraining the kid.

The Dean he had been before all the real bad stuff had happened, would've CARED, and with THAT he would've sorted things out.

Dean thought about what would've been, if Castiel hadn't been able to heal him. What if the angel wouldn't have had enough juice …

Well, actually he hadn't have. Because he hadn't been able to heal him completely. Just enough so he'd survive this. There had been slashed arteries, muscles and tendons … and blood loss. His angel-friend had been able to heal the torn flesh, though there remained a thin scar where the skin had been broken. Then he had passed out next to the bed – crumbling into a heap like a puppet whose strings had been cut through.

And now, Castiel lay two rooms further down the corridor on a bed, dead to the world for at least the upcoming twenty-four hours, fighting to get some angel-juice back.

Dean shifted, a deep sigh falling from his lips as he cast his gaze down onto the dark-green linoleum-floor.

„_Satisfied_?", a hoarse voice broke the silence.

The hunter's head snapped up and he stared at the man on the bed.

Sam's eyes remained closed, but he could tell – because of his faster, deeper breaths - that he was awake now.

First he didn't know what to say.

„_We had a deal ..._", the younger man croaked out.

„Well, slippery slope. - Change of plans, kiddo." Dean leaned back in the chair and blinked, watching the man closely as he sucked in a deep breath. „No one's going to die if I can stop it. - Specially not you ..."

There was a shuddering exhale and a desperate sound that seemed to come somewhere deep down from Sam's soul.

Then there was silence and the man on the bed drifted off into the land of dreams again.

* * *

_Days went by … _

… Except the fact that Dean and Cas tried to figure out what it was, that made Sam (and the others) special, they didn't come any further. Not even with the informations Bobby had given them. Sure, Sam must have some kind of abilities. But with Sam obviously not remembering them … AND the fact that they didn't know if the other victims (except the faith-healer and the psychic) had abilities too. And even if the other victims HAD abilities … it didn't bring them any further even if they knew.

BUT there was a thing that actually WAS in fact interesting: Castiel had explained to Dean, that – whatever Sam had seen in the mirror – wasn't human. That there was something different in the kind of energy that roamed within him. Though the angel couldn't tell what it was, nor why he couldn't sense it. So they just put it on the fact, that heaven was out of reach and that it had to do with the weakened state of his grace.

The things with their guest didn't get any better either. Sam refused to leave his bedroom. Refused to eat. Refused to do anything but lying on the bed and staring ahead, or sleeping. He was shutting off, was pulling back into his shell.

And to be honest: Dean wasn't in Sam's good books anyway. The hunter had tried to talk to him, tried to lure him out. But Sam also refused to speak. _Hell_, Dean wasn't even sure if the guy was listening to him.

So when it was his turn to sit in the chair and watch over the man, it was silent. After the second day, they had moved a desk into Sam's room and had placed it at the wall beside the bathroom-door. So Dean could read in the eldest of books about any leads and hints he was currently following WHILE he had an eye on Sam.

Sam didn't even look at him. Didn't look in his direction. Nor made any attempt to stare back at him. It was like nothing around the younger man existed anymore. Just him and the bed, and the casually visit to the bathroom. The only times he got up from bed anyway.

Dean refused to jump up and steady the man (despite his urge), when he swayed on his feet. He tried to ignore it. Tried to act, as if Sam wasn't there, just like Sam was doing it with them.

But that way it didn't work either.

* * *

It came ahead to the day, where Dean Winchester couldn't take it anymore.

It wasn't the silence in the room. It wasn't the _tick tock_ of the clock on the nightstand. It wasn't the sound of the heating, when it turned itself on automatically. It wasn't about the fact, that Sam was trying to starve himself to death, or that he wouldn't talk to anyone.

Not even to Kevin.

It was the fact, that he just couldn't watch IT anymore. He couldn't watch the guy fade right before his eyes. He couldn't watch him die. He had seen too many people die unwillingly in front of him.

And Dean Winchester blamed himself for it. Of course – deep down – he knew that it wasn't all on his thought. That it was probably more like THE WHOLE THING that made Sam act that way. (Though the hunter didn't dispute that he have had a part on it.)

But as the Winchester-men were … they always blamed themselves. For everything. Even for the end of the world (okay, that may was a bad relation, because actually the Winchesters have had – at least – to a small part fault that the apocalypse even happened).

The hunter rose from his chair at the desk and shut the book in wich he had been reading (more or less) carefully, so not to make a loud noise. Without a word he moved towards the bed, a blank expression on his face – giving nothing away, nor letting anything on.

He took delicate care of not making any sounds as he did so.

As Dean stood beside the bed, Sam turned on his back (well listening to the closer coming footfalls before) and stared up at the hunter with dazed eyes.

Confusion and fear written all over the hollow hazel-green circles. But Sam wouldn't even do as much as blink.

The hunter stood there a moment longer, as if to let Sam decide if he wanted to get away from him – or rather not.

Dean crawled on top of the bed, tugging the blanket back and slipped under it.

He didn't say a single thing. He just looked at Sam, his gaze lingering on him. He laid down alongside with the younger man. Without asking, the Winchester eased one arm in under Sam's neck and laid the other one over his stomach, holding onto his hip.

He then turned him to the side. - And Sam let him, too confused to say or do anything against it. Without asking, or even caring about if it was okay for the man, he tugged him closer and pulled the blanket back up again. Both arms wrapped tight around Sam's rigid body.

The hunter laid his flat palm on the back of Sam's head and pressed his head with gentle force against his chest, making him feel the closeness between the both of them. Making him listen to his heartbeat.

„It wasn't your fault. - None of what had happened was your fault.", Dean whispered into Sam's ear softly, his lips nearly touching the curve of his ear as he did so.

And with that, the younger man broke apart in Dean's arms …

… … _to be continued_

* * *

_okay, you guys will have to wait a bit longer for the next update ^^ _

_I'm pretty drained at the moment and have a lot of shifts and personal stuff going on. _

_But I try to update within the next 3 days and try to keep my pace. _

_See ya'll in the next chapter: Chapter 10 ~ A New Beginning?_


	10. Chapter 10 A New Beginning?

**Sorry for the delay! Had to go to the dentist yesterday … and the injection the guy gave me put me down.**

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 10 ~ A New Beginning?**_

THEN:

_The hunter laid his flat palm on the back of Sam's head and pressed his head with gentle force against his chest, making him feel the closeness between the both of them. Making him listen to his heartbeat._

„_It wasn't your fault. - None of what had happened was your fault.", Dean whispered into Sam's ear softly, his lips nearly touching the curve of his ear as he did so._

_And with that, the younger man broke apart in Dean's arms …_

* * *

NOW:

Sam cried.

He cried hard. Cried himself into oblivion, in the safety of strong arms.

He cried until he was dry and the weeping ebbed away … until he was drained and exhausted.

And Dean held him. He held him close. Not talking, nor moving. The hunter didn't know why he had done it. Didn't think about it right then. It had just seemed to be the right thing. It had felt like something had been calling to him. - His instincts or Sam. Maybe the instincts he had lost a long time ago.

Not the ones of a hunter. The ones of beeing human, feeling like a human. Being able to sense what the other one needed.

The hunter felt Sam shift, felt a long arm sneak around his torso and fingers warping into the fabric of his shirt, fisting it tightly, tearing on its seams.

Sam's face was buried in the hunter's chest, the fabric there heavy with salty tears. He didn't care that it was Dean Winchester holding him. He didn't care that it should've felt embarrassing. He didn't question why and how the hunter had decided to do THAT. Because he had needed it right then.

He was about to give himself up. Sam knew that.

What had he been living for? All those years, ever since his parents had died it was just about survival and living – _somehow_. He had worked all those years as something he didn't want to be, to have what? Food? Water? And a decayed roof over his head?

And that was it? That was what he had sold himself for? Without any chance to ever change his life? Without the smallest chance to start a _new_ life – somewhere else?

Right in the moment, when Castiel had seen what he had needed to see. In the one moment he was about to get back to conciousness he had already decided. He had decided that it wasn't worth to go on like that.

He had decided to leave this world behind.

After a long time the hunter noticed Sam's breaths slowing down, felt the grip of his hand easing, until it slid down limply, letting go of the abused fabric that was Dean Winchester's shirt.

Finally Sam had fallen asleep.

Now also Dean started to feel the grip of tiredness getting a hold of his body and mind. He blinked a couple of times, trying to keep his eyes open, holding desperately onto vigilance.

But his body wouldn't obey, as his limps grew heavier and the warmth under the blanket and the heat radiating from Sam took its tall on him.

After a few minutes he didn't fight it anymore and allowed himself to drift off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

A sleep both had needed so bad, ended a couple of hours later.

They had nestled closer into each other while they had slept. Dean held the younger man protectively, as if to shield him from every possible threat. Sam lay curled up, his head buried in the hunter's chest, sleeping fitfully for two hours streight, before he started to get restless and his past came back to haunt him in his dreams.

So _bad_. So _violently_.

Causing his body to twitch and groan and his mind to fight its way back to consciousness.

Dean lazily blinked his eyes open, gazing at the mop of hair, on wich his chin rested. He blew out a long breath through his nose.

Sam's grip on his shirt tightened again, burying his face into the hunter's chest.

„It's fine, Sam.", he whispered huskily. „You're gonna be fine."

Dean grunted, as he felt the knuckles of the man's fingers dig into his ribs. „It's fine ..." _… Sammy._ How bad he wanted to call him that – it was odd. Every time he intended to call the younger man by his name, he saw the shield on the wooden bed before his mental eyes.

„Sam?", he winced, but refused to push him away, or even try to get out of the man's hold. „You gotta wake up, man. - Wake up …" Dean knew that it was just a nightmare. But now that he had an idea of WHAT he was probably dreaming about … lets just say: It was different now that he literally EXPERIENCED the same as Sam had been. He wouldn't be able to blame the guy for any of his behaviour anymore.

After another moment of thinking, he laid his hand on the back of the younger man's head and started to stroke him gently.

But he didn't talk. Because he didn't know what to say … didn't know what to tell him that could possibly make it better. Dean wasn't much of a talker anyway.

A gasp and Sam's eyes snapped open, his whole body tensing for a split second, before he started to tremble. He released the hunter's shirt as if he had burnt his fingers on it, pulling his arms against his own body in between himself and Dean. He then inched backwards, bringing distance in between the hunter and himself with a pained wince.

Dean let him. He pulled his hands away from the younger man and stayed still. Right where he was.

Sam was heavily panting, his flat palm pressing against the gashes on his right shoulder. Sure they were healing, but still pretty nasty and sore, aching with every move he made.

„You okay?", Dean asked. _… because you look like you're not._

Sam sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm down, trying to reassure his racing heart that it was all okay.

„You hurtin'?"

Sam shook his head, not able to look the man in his eyes.

Silence.

„Fine ..." Dean cleared his throat and sighed. „Look ..." actually it was too early after awaking to start such a conversation (even if it'd be just one man talking). „... I get it. You want it to stop. You don't see any reason why you should go on. - You've fought and don't know what for." Dean paused. „Then you stumble across a hunter, who's giving a shit about you. - Because he thinks he just needs you to solve a case and kill the monster that's after a bunch of people. - Not caring about collateral damage. A man who's treating you like not even a whore should be treated." Maybe not one of his best speeches, but it'd hopefully do. „And i'm _sorry_, okay? I shouldn't have acted like that. I shouldn't have been such an ass. - Because you don't deserve this. I know you don't. - So what'd you say? … Do I get a second chance?"

Dean watched him carefully the entire time. Scanned Sam's face with his looks, trying to figure out if his words got through to him. „I mean … _we_ can't forget about what happened that day in the bathroom. _I know that._ But maybe …" A deep sigh. „...I wanna try, huh? To make it better. I want to make it up to you – if that's possible."

Sam wouldn't look up, wouldn't meet his gaze. He didn't want a do-over. He didn't want that anyone tried to make anything better for him. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted peace and silence. He wanted the end of existence of his miserable life. _Eternal_ peace.

Whatever the hunter aimed at … he didn't care. _They_ had everything now. The angel knew everything about Sam's life. Knew about the fact that he probably wasn't human. - There wasn't any good about keeping him anymore. Sam _didn't want to_ be kept anymore.

Sam had accomplished his purpose.

He was _done_.

Done with everything and everyone. So should this people be with him.

* * *

Dean got up soon after, gathered a fresh set of clothes from his bedroom and went back into Sam's. He didn't dare to leave the man alone for too long. He wouldn't let him try to kill himself again. Not under his roof.

So when he went back into Sam's room he hogged the bathroom there. He let some warm water run into the sink and cleaned himself up. They needed to save water these days. Sure, in the bunker they were _damn_ lucky. No one could say that they've the same a luck with electricity and the water. They were even able to drink it from the faucet.

What other people couldn't.

The men of letters had thought about everything back then, and the hunter wondered if they possibly _knew_ ...

And though … they needed to live more economical now. Because who knew how long it'd last? The electricity, the water, the heater … Nothing lasted forever. Not even the generators that worked in the basement, from whom no one knew where they got their juice from.

Dean put on the fresh set of clothes (since wearing the other one for three days streight now) and went back into the bedroom, his gaze instantly aiming at the bed, checking unconsciously at Sam.

He lay there – on his side, his back towards Dean.

The hunter could see the slow rise and fall of his chest, saw the man's fingers on his shoulder, gripping it tight.

Dean glanced at the table, where books and loosen papers lay scattered.

Castiel had spent the first two days after regaining his straight with writing down Sam's story. He had also told him about what Sam had seen in himself in the mirror. - Just because he had to. Because Dean needed to know. Because it was something essential to figure out why the demons let kill these people.

People who obviously didn't even know that they were different – wich possibly weren't even a bit human.

They stuck with their research. They hadn't come any further in the past couple of days … _with nothing._ Okay, maybe they had gathered a couple of pieces from their puzzle. But they still didn't know WHY. WHY they wanted those people out of the way?

There had to be a reason.

With a sigh, Dean walked around the bed, giving the desk a last longing look, before he sat down on the edge of the bed, where Sam was facing the wall. His eyes were open, staring into nothingness.

When the mattress tipped down, he flinched, his eyes focusing and he looked at Dean.

Dean looked back down at him.

„I need to check on your bandages ..." _… because I won't let you go without trying._

Sam thought about to verbally disagree for a moment. But then again …

He sighed.

_Why not?_ If the hunter'd be at peace then …

Against Dean's expectations the younger man sat up awkwardly. Dizziness claimed him in the very moment as he was halfway up and came into a sitting position, burying his face in his hands, trying to stop the spinning in his head.

„Wowowow kiddo." Dean laid his hand on the man's good shoulder to steady him. „Go slow." He frowned, noticing the beads of sweat forming on Sam's neck. „Lay back." It wasn't a suggestion.

The younger man obeyed and sunk back into the pillow, closing his eyes.

„Just so you know. - You're gonna eat your damn dinner today. If you're making troubles with it I'm gonna force feed it to you."

Sam sucked in a shuddering breath, looking at the older man with unfocused circles. He had just heard something about dinner and force feeding. But he could well imagine what the guy meant. And he assumed, that the hunter would stay true to his word.

„No." Sam could at least try. „Just let me go. - Leave me some pills … or whatever. - And go."

Dean's face darkened with anger, green blazing fire flaring up in his eyes. No Dean Winchester wasn't a patient man. „So it be."

Dean did understand, but then again …_ he didn't._ He had never thought (no matter how screwed up his life had been, how mad he had been at himself) about killing himself.

Sam thrust his yaw forward and stared in his direction with determination.

„Fine." Dean jumped to his feet, fumbling for the gun that he wore in the holster of his upper thigh. „There you go." He pulled the weapon free and put the safety off, then thrusted it into the man's hands.

Stuttered, Sam stared at the silvery gleaming form, feeling the cold metal in his hands.

„Go ahead." Dean rose his voice, but couldn't hide the terrified anger. „Might as well get it over with."

Sam swallowed hard. _Did he mean it?_ Would the hunter really let him go? Let him have what he longed for?

He turned the gun in his hands, heavy and cold and a silent promise of peace right before him.

The room fell calm.

Dean stood there beside the bed, eying the younger man warily. A mixture of emotions playing over his face. But non of them was anger or fury.

Sam positioned the gun in his hands, looking through it. Though he pointed the barrel at himself, tentatively ghosting with the thumb of his left hand over the trigger, letting it linger there.

His look darted to the hunter, who remained in place, heavily breathing, his face screwed up gruffly in tension.

The younger man guided the barrel towards his forehead, feeling the cool circle of it against his clammy skin in between his eyebrows. Sam's eyes fluttered shut and then with a trembling finger, he pulled the trigger …

A soft click echoed through the room.

He pulled the trigger a second time.

And again there was just an empty click.

Dean's eyebrows rose slowly, his orbs blank for a couple of moments as he heard the click a third time.

Sam's eyes snapped open and a desperate sigh fell from his lips, as he stared with dilated pupils in the hunter's direction. He frowned. His hands started to tremble even more, as the gun sank down into his lap.

The Winchester kept his voice calm. „Gratulations, Sammy. - You're dead and in heaven." The hunter walked slowly forward and took the gun from Sam's shaky hands.

Tears gathering in the younger man's eyes and he felt the weapon taken away from him. _So close and though so far … _

The hunter looked at him a moment longer, before he turned around and left the room, closing the door behind himself. Outside the room he leaned against the wooden door with his back. The gun still in his hands. His eyes closed. Swallowing around the lump in his throat. Taking the first deep breath since he had laid the deadly tool into Sam's hands.

Maybe Sam'd get the hint … Just maybe he'd understand what he meant by letting him do THAT.

He tugged the gun back into the holster and secured it there, shaking his head slightly.

Sam _needed_ to understand …

* * *

It was later that evening, when Dean stirred in the bowl of warm oatmeal, adding another spoon of sugar.

Castiel had decided to take his turn, since the hunter had left Sam's room. Kevin sat in the library, trying to find a lead on the demon who must've summoned the daevas. Because they wouldn't just come by themselves – that much they knew. Daevas had to be summoned and controlled by someone. High likely another demon in the higher ranks, with enough power to control them. - And there sure as hell weren't a lot around.

So Kevin had figured out that they needed to talk to one those bastards. (More torturing, less talking, probably.) Because they wouldn't find the answer in any book.

Dean filled four bowls with the warm meal and put a spoon in each one of them. Then he put them on a tray and made his way through the library, placing one of them beside the prophet, who gave him a thankful nod.

„Hey … Dean?" Kevin leaned back and rubbed over his face tiredly.

„Yeah?" The hunter stopped in his tracks.

„When're you and Cas leaving?", he asked hesitantly, dark brown eyes looking up at him worriedly.

„In the morning.", the hunter answered calmly, a worried expression on his face too. He knew what Kevin left unsaid. The boy was afraid of staying alone with Sam. That all the responsibility was on him then. Because usually, such a demon-interrogation took the both of them a couple of days, since Dean refused to get those black-eyed bastards into the bunker. (Even when they had a dungeon …)

„Don't worry, Kev. - We'll hurry up." The hunter gave him a reassuring smile and winked at him with a wicked grin.

„But … what if ..." The young man sighed and shook his head.

„There are no if's. Just don't leave him alone with sharp things …" He cocked an eyebrow, and Kevin simply rolled with his eyes. „I don't think that he is going to leave the room anyway. - You got this."

The kid sniffed and glanced at the bowl with the steaming contents and then back up at the hunter, shaking his head slightly.

* * *

Dean frowned at he came closer to Sam's door. He heard muffled voices from behind it. So he stopped in his tracks … and listened … intensively.

He was just able to understands pieces of Castiel's and Sam's conversation. But they definitely were talking about … God? Fate? No … they were talking about something else … about Sam and what he had seen in the mirror …

Yeah – even when the angel hadn't been quite emphatically in the past (before the world broke apart), he sure as hell was now. At least sometimes. Maybe he had to be because of Dean. Because the hunter had turned into something un-caring over the past years … Castiel had learned how to talk and deal with people, while Dean had given up the habit of trying to save _everyone_. Not to mention that he had never been the sensitive guy either.

When he heard sobs from the other side, his frown deepened and he knocked. Though he didn't wait for an invitation anyway. This was _his_ bunker. - He didn't need an invitation to get inside any of the rooms, did he?

So the hunter went inside without further hesitation. He caught sight of Sam, who rapidly wiped with the sleeves of his hoody over his eyes and cheeks, turning his heat to the side, so Dean wasn't able to see.

Castiel leaned back in the chair, big ocean-blue eyes looking back at his hunter-friend, with an undescripably sadness in them.

„Dinner.", Dean stated and placed the tablet on the end of the bed, handing one of the bowls to Castiel.

He then picked up the other both and walked to the empty half of Sam's bed, where he flopped down, putting one of the bowls into Sam's lap without asking. Dean then inched back, until he was sitting against the headboard, just like Sam.

Castiel stirred in the grey-brown goop, lifted his spoon and let it sink back into the bowl, burying it deep. „Dean … we talked about this ...", he glanced up at the hunter.

Dean just shrugged and scooped up a spoon full, stuffing it into his mouth and chewing it with a low moan. „It's healthy, Cas."

„It may be healthy … but not very tasteful.", the angel gave back.

As Sam didn't make an attempt to even check out what the hunter had brought him, Dean put his bowl onto the nightstand and reached over to Sam's hands, placing them to the left and right of the bowl in his lap.

„Oatmeal.", Dean said and went back at his own, stuffing another spoon full into his mouth. „Eat.", he glanced at the younger man.

Sam frowned and sniffed, letting the warmth soak into his open palms. He lifted the bowl and sniffed at the contents. It smelled sweet and it was warm …

Before any memories of his childhood could come to the surface, Sam felt for the spoon and pulled it out of the sticky mixture. He then licked at the spoon, tasting it. A faint smile – just for a moment – ghosted over his face before he licked off the rest, until the spoon was clean and he stuck it back into the bowl, repeating the whole procedure.

After half an hour the bowls were empty and on the tray again.

„Thanks.", Sam muttered.

They just sat there – stuffed with oatmeal. Because Dean always made huge servings, so no one would have to go hungry after their meals.

Sure, he had made a smaller one for Sam, since he wasn't sure if he'd even look at it. Not because he was greedy. - Because they couldn't afford to throw food away. Not in times like these. NOW he wished he would've made some more, now that he saw how clean Sam had scrapped the bowl with his fingers.

* * *

Dean checked on Sam's bandages, when Castiel had left. The bandages were clean and dry and so the hunter decided to leave them off. The gashes seemed to heal up nicely too, so he told Sam that he'd remove the stitches in a couple of days.

Sam let himself being helped into the bathroom (not because he was cool all of a sudden with his situation. No. Because he KNEW he wasn't able to make it to the toilet and back into bed again).

Dean let Sam sneak under the bedding and covered him with an extra-blanket, since the generator in the basement shut down at 10pm and would get started again at 7am in the morning. It was something automatically, non of the three men were able to figure out how to change the rhythm of the generators.

And before they'd be completely without heater, they decided to leave it be as it was. The temperature in the bunker wouldn't drop below a certain temperature anyway.

„Good night.", Dean said silently, as he walked towards the room.

„Dean ..." The younger man looked in his direction, though it seemed like he was looking through him.

The hunter stopped in his tracks and turned around. „Yeah?"

„Now that I'm dead and in heaven ...", Sam started hesitantly, not quite sure if he got it right just then with his head full of despair and determination … and darkness, „... I could really use a shave at some point."

The corners of Dean's lips twitched. Yeah, the kid wasn't stupid – he got it right. „Sure. First thing tomorrow morning, Sam."

A small smile formed on Sam's lips and let his eyes lighten up in joy for a moment.

…_... to be continued_

* * *

_THANK YOU for all those who still stuck with me & the story. _

_*** sigh * **_

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	11. Chapter 11 The Others

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 11 ~ The Others**_

THEN:

„_Dean ..." The younger man looked in his direction, though it seemed like he was looking through him._

_The hunter stopped in his tracks and turned around. „Yeah?"_

„_Now that I'm dead and in heaven ...", Sam started hesitantly, not quite sure if he got it right just then with his head full of despair and determination … and darkness, „... I could really use a shave at some point."_

_The corners of Dean's lips twitched. Yeah, the kid wasn't stupid – he got it right. „Sure. First thing tomorrow morning, Sam."_

_A small smile formed on Sam's lips and let his eyes lighten up in joy for a moment._

* * *

NOW:

It had been a night like every other ever since in his life. A restless sleep, haunted dreams and darkness, no matter if his eyes were closed or open.

The world remained the same. Sam's world remained the same.

So Sam lay awake. He didn't know for how long he had been. Could've been minutes or even hours. High likely most of the night.

The air had become quite chilly and the stitches in his shoulder were itchy. So he scratched. - Then they started to burn. Probably he had scratched a little bit too much, so he tried to distract himself and closed his eyes. Tried to think of the colors trees used to have. Tried to remember what flowers looked like, what grass felt like ...

That was when he heard footfalls in the corridor in front of his room, and then the familiar creak of the door handle was heard.

Sam's eyes snapped open.

A gruff groan was heard, wich definitely came from the hunter, and then something hit the bed-end.

An exhale caught in his throat and his chest tightened.

Except the shuffling footfalls wasn't a lot to make out, even as he strained his ears.

"Hunter?", he asked huskily and insecure as his visitor wouldn't say a single word.

Another groan. "'Mornin'."

He blew out a breath and propped up on his elbows, looking around. And there he was ... gleaming silvery strands of energy, tangled together, moving like worms or snakes caught in a human shape.

"Me and Cas ... we've to head out." Dean sounded tired and pissed. "You'll stay with Kev. - He'll take care of you for a couple of days ..." He still sounded pissed.

Sam just nodded and rubbed with one of his hands over his face.

"Get up and I'm gonna get you shaved and help you gettin' cleaned up ... and stuff. - Before we're heading out."

Sam heard the bathroom-door being opened and a light switch being turned on. He then heard the shuffling of clothes. The young man sat up carefully and let his legs slip out of the bed, staying in a sitting position for quite some time, until the dizziness faded and his mind started to clear.

"You ready?" Dean's gruff voice was right beside him, and Sam's head snapped up, his pupils blown wide.

"I'd like to ... do that by myself ...", Sam spoke up huskily.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, because that worked out so good the past couple of times, did it?"

Sam frowned, his eyes fluttering shut. If the hunter wanted him to restart, why'd he mention what had happened before yesterday?

Dean instantly sensed the shift of emotions that made the air thick around the both of them. Maybe he should start to watch his mouth a bit more ... since it had been _his_ idea of hitting the reset-button anyway. So he cleared his throat. "'Cause the last time I left you alone in here – without help – you fainted."

Sam's frown deepened as he looked back up at the form before him. "Passed out."

"What?" Dean rubbed over his face, trying to wipe the sleepiness away.

"Men _don't_ faint. - Men pass out.", Sam said and sniffed tiredly.

The hunter chuckled amused. "Well – I don't want you to _pass_ _out_ on me again and carry your heavy ass back to bed. - Man, I tore myself some muscles the last time."

Sam sniffed and shook his head. - That'd be fun. Why did the hunter even bother to help him when he didn't want to?

But despite the last time Dean Winchester had helped him, this time he was way calmer. Sure he didn't talk a lot. But what he wouldn't say, he'd do with careful touches and brushes. So – except for the humiliated dignity – everything went down silent and somehow awkward between the both of them.

First Dean gave the toothbrush to Sam and watched him brushing his teeth. He then shaved Sam with his shaving kit. - The very same cut-throat razor Sam had used to slice his wrists open ...

Even while Dean checked the younger man's body out (and hell yes, he did, because he was just a man.), he kept his voice and touches casual and functional (with great afford).

Sam stood under the warm-water-spray, his eyes closed as he let it run over his face and hair, steadying himself with a hand on the cool tiles. He felt a cool brush of air against his side and face, when he heard the shower curtain being moved, so he wouldn't stand there exposed.

He appreciated the hunter's try to give him some dignity. Because showers ... showers were for him, _just for him_, to wash the sin away, to clear his mind. Just to get himself again.

"You done?", he heard the hunter's muffled voice through the sound of water hitting the tiles.

"Yeah ... I'm done.", he answered silently and took a step backwards, letting his right hand rest on the tiles on his side, covering his private parts with his left (as good as possible).

Again he felt the curtain being moved and a cool flush of air hit his heated up skin, letting him shiver. Then he heard the silent squeak of the regulator and the water stopped.

Dean well recognized instantly that the man looked a bit paler than before. He eyed him for another moment, his eyes narrowing at the dripping wet hair that clung to the man's cheeks and forehead.

He took another second to decide whether to ask him if he was okay or not. He called himself a chick for even thinking about asking him.

Dean had never cared about snappy remarks or insults ... or anything else verbal. Why would he start now?

Though ... he had to admit, that it was different since he had been a complete ass towards Sam before. Had seen and felt what Sam had, as if it had been himself back then (even when these feelings had subsided 48 hours later ... he could still REMEMBER what it had been like for him).

He couldn't put his cocky poker face back on (when it came to Sam).

So he didn't ask how Sam felt. Instead he helped him back into his clothes and back to the bed, where Sam slumped down, completely drained and spent as if he had spent a night on the strip.

Dean sat at the edge of the bed while Sam tried to will his racing heart to slow down.

So the hunter waited some more.

"Don't do any stupid things while I'm gone, okay? Kev wouldn't take it very well if he'd find you with a bullet in your head, or sliced wrists ... or whatever." He said after a long while.

Sam's attention snapped to the man, and he nodded. No ... he wouldn't. Honestly wouldn't. The hunter tried to help him – somehow ... in his own kind of way. Like the thing with the gun ...

For someone else it might've looked or sounded stupid. - But for Sam ... after he had realized what the hunter aimed at with that action ... something had shifted inside him. So Sam wanted to try. He didn't know exactly for who or why. But he had the feeling that he needed to.

That he owed this man to try, since he took such an effort in it.

So Sam would. He still could end his life later ... if it wouldn't work out any other way.

Further: He haven't had to get on his hands and knees for the things those men had given to him. He haven't had to pay.

On the other hand ... he had nothing to pay with (except himself). And _maybe_ the guys weren't gay – at least they didn't sound like it. - Or however Sam could express that feeling he had deep down in his guts. Because actually men didn't need to sound gay to be gay. (Internally he was glad that no one was able to hear his thoughts ... because THESE could definitely get him into big troubles.)

"I won't."

Dean gave him a nod. AGAIN remembering himself that he wasn't able to see it. "Okay, kiddo. - I'll check in on you before we're heading out." He paused, pensively looking to the ground. "Just do as Kev says. - He's a good kid and cares a lot about others ..." _... contrary to me ... _

Sam nodded again, his lips curling up a bit as he did so.

"You're not very content with yourself, hunter." Sam cocked his head to the side, blinking. "You may act like an ass sometimes ... but I'm sure there's a soft core somewhere deep down – _buried_ – inside you."

"You tryin' to seduce me?" Dean chuckled nervously, blushing a little. Not that the Winchester in him would've ever admitted that he was even able to blush.

Sam shook his head. "No ... I'm not. - I just think ... I mean ... you're trying. And that's nice of you. - I've no clue what changed your mind about me ... but ... it feels nice when someone's talking normal with me, instead of treating me like the whore that I am."

Dean's face darkened. - Somehow he didn't like the sound of the word WHORE in reference of Sam anymore. Not after Cas had showed him. To be more explicit: It made him angry. - Even kind of furious the way Sam was talking about himself.

The man hadn't seen another chance to survive, to get his stomach full, So he had sold himself, with damn freaking fifteen years, for the first time.

Sure, Dean had heard about similar stories about kids on the streets ... but he actually had never FELT how it was to be forced into this. He hadn't taken a lot of concern about that topic in the past either. And Sam sure as hell hadn't looked like he'd been through THAT much, when he first had picked him up ... Hell ... most of the hookers he had got, had seemed to enjoy it.

But now? Had he been that blind?

"Well ... you ain't a hooker anymore.", was all that Dean said. Because he couldn't discuss this, couldn't talk about that right now. Hell – by the looks of it, the man didn't even know that Castiel had SHOWED him parts of his life.

"You'll check in before you leave?" Sam's voice was small, hesitant.

Dean smiled warmly. "Sure thing."

For a moment it looked like if their gazes met over the distance. - For a split second Dean thought he saw a silvery light gleaming up in the younger man's hazel-green orbs. - For a short moment Sam thought to see the silvery gleaming energy lighten up a little.

Dean made a mental note to ask Cas if the kid even knew that HE KNEW (of course he KNEW that Sam KNEW that he had been reading Castiel's notes. - But did Sam also knew that the angel had made Dean into a part of it? - Wasn't it something like mind-raping someone?).

* * *

Nope. Sam didn't know. Castiel hadn't asked for permission, nor had informed him that he'd show Dean anything. Castiel had been close to get his other yaw bruised.

But he actually didn't.

Somehow Dean wasn't that impulsive right then and the angel was glad about it. - Because this time he would've punched back.

Instead of ranting about what Castiel had done, Dean was pensive and deep in thoughts for the whole drive towards their destination. What made his angel-friend a bit uneasy and doubting for a moment that it had been a good idea to do what he had done. But just for a moment. Because generally he was convinced, that Dean had needed just that.

A little lesson of how he was acting. To hear and see himself ... nope, Castiel wasn't sorry at all.

It wasn't a big deal to summon a cross-roads-demon a couple of miles away from the bunker. Neither it was a big deal to trap it, cuff it and store it in the trunk for their thirty-minutes-drive towards the abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere, where they used to exercise their interrogation-tactics on demons.

The only thing they had to do each time, was to clean the place from walkers without arousing too much attention. Gladly the half-rotten walking dead things weren't that fast anymore and for a proved hunter nothing big of a problem.

When the demon was chained to the chair in the middle of the giant room, when the doors were locked down, when they had sealed it with salt and devil's traps, they started to do what they had to.

Of course the first one wasn't much of any help. The bastard didn't know anything, except a name ... A name Dean had never heard before ...

_Crowley._

Besides the whole demon-torturing and exorcising, he couldn't hinder himself to think about Sam. Every now and then the guy flashed up in his mind out of nowhere, leaving a warm feeling behind in his belly.

Not that Dean Winchester would ever admit that something LIKE THAT was even possible. He wasn't a guy who loved ... he had sex. That was a difference. - Hell, he didn't even ONCE (at least he told himself so) had fallen in love with anyone else. Except ... maybe once ...

The second demon was the same ... no informations, no hints ... _nothing_.

The Winchester started to get frustrated.

But the third one ... that one was the big deal. Sure they had to convince him ... but after thirteen hours of Dean Winchester's seasoned hands, the demon became pretty talkative. Forty years in hell in the hands of Alistair hadn't been that bad after all ...

So the demon told them about another demon. - Obviously, after Lucifer's disappearance they had fought for the upper hand downstairs. And a demon named Crowley was now some sort of KING to them. At least he reigned hell _at the moment_.

Things downstairs had always been a little unstable. Just like in heaven.

There was a tell-tale downstairs, that Crowley had a special creature captured. One that'd be able to find others like it. And that Crowley was sending out his demonic pit bulls to get them killed. Some were whispering that it was some kind of an _angel-demon-breed_.

Though Castiel seemed to doubt that. There was no way that something like THAT could possibly exist. No angel would ever unite with a demon. Yet never falling in love, nor bonding in ways like that.

The demon babbled shit about angels and demons, and that those THINGS ... had abilities, wich'd be able to destroy **everything**.

What seemed like a logic reason to the Winchester and Castiel why the_ king of hell_ wanted them gone ... for good. Though ... somehow the angel-demon-breed-thing didn't make sense.

So after the demon-bastard had begged to be killed, Dean sent him back to hell. Because that was what he deserved, _didn't he_?

* * *

Sam lay on the couch in the library, dozing along, a book resting on his stomach. - Not that he would've been able to see it ... or check out the pictures. Sam just loved the scent of old books and the feel of the pages ... _Old habits_.

After the first day, when the both were gone, Sam had left his room for the first time, since that event. Kevin had showed him Castiel's green house, where Sam spent a lot of time lately. The only area where he didn't see just darkness and the flooding-looking form of Kevin in the dark. There were colors. So many colors – and it felt like he was able to see again.

When he reached for one of the plants and touched it, it looked like his ghost and the one of the flower melted, like they were interacting. It felt like a tingle in his fingertips every time he touched them, like they were exchanging something on a higher level.

But the past three days he had been mostly waiting for Dean's and Castiel's return. Kevin seemed to get uneasier with every day. Even when Sam couldn't see him ... he could feel it. The way the prophet paced forth and back sometimes, the way he talked or NOT said a single word for hours.

AND Kevin wouldn't leave Sam out under his watch. - Even when he promised the kid that he wouldn't try something stupid – like Dean had warned him not to.

Sam had tried to help Kevin with some things ... like doing the laundry or chopping vegetables.

After four cut fingers, two burns on his hands and multiple bruises from stumbling over things, Kevin had damned him to spend his time on the couch, or on the bench in the kitchen. Had forbidden him to touch anything but himself, books or the small music-player until Dean and Cas would be back.

And Sam obeyed. - Because he had the feeling that he'd make things even worse if he tried to help. First it had been kind of fun, but now it was simply frustrating and embarrassing.

So while Sam was damned to do nothing but stare ahead, he did the second-best thing he could do: TALK. Though he and the young man just talked about trivia stuff. - Nothing that'd go too deep and rip open old wounds. At least Sam's.

Kevin on the other hand was a little more open. - When the fourth day was nearly over, Sam knew close to EVERYTHING about the prophet. Even how much he missed chinese food.

So Sam lay there ... dozing with a book resting on his stomach. Trying to relax his aching neck and back from his last fall (down the staircase towards the basement, since he had taken the wrong direction this morning).

Gladly he hadn't broken something. Just bruises and sore bones ... Sam just knew he needed to work out a pattern. - So he counted how many steps it took from point A to point B, tried to find points he'd be able to memorize with his fingers.

What didn't go as well and fast as Sam had wanted to ...

* * *

_On the fifth day ..._

Castiel and Dean were on their way back to the bunker ...

Instead of cursing and bitching at the walkers, demons and the virus, Dean Winchester was silent. Shifting uneasy in the driver's seat, as if he was itching and eager to get back to the bunker.

The hunter didn't even left a word when Castiel pulled a cigarette from the inside-pocket of his military-jacket and lighted it up.

Instantly a sweet smell (so unlike nicotine) filled the Impala.

Usually Dean was utter-concerned about the upholstery of the car ... but not so this time. He seemed to have bigger worries.

Not that ever something was able to question the love for his baby anyway ...

They still didn't know exactly what this all was about ... but now they knew who they could possibly ask to. Who'd know what was going on ... and what these "people" where exactly. If they truly were a breed resulting of an angel and demon ... THING, then someone had to know about it, _right_? Someone must've heard about that, _right_? They just had to ask the right questions to the right person.

And Castiel damn well knew who he could ask ... someone who knew about close to every kinky little secret that got to do with heaven AND hell ... _BALTHAZAR_.

* * *

Dean pushed the door open and stayed there, letting Castiel in. They made their way down the stairs and through the empty main-hall. Both men looking utterly exhausted ..._ and dirty_.

They let their duffels on the table with the map and went streight into the kitchen, from where they heard the clattering of crockery.

As they entered, they spotted Kevin at the stove and a well-laid table to their right.

The young man spun around, a spoon in his hand and stared at the both of them for a moment, before his lips curled up into a relieved smile.

"Took you long enough ..." He sniffed and turned back to the cupboards to get two more plates. ... of course he had ben saying: _Welcome back, Glad to see you both alive. _

Dean slumped down on the bench and Castiel right beside him. "Yeah, good to be back." The hunter looked around, his eyes narrowing. "Sam's in his room?"

Kevin glanced back at him and hurried up to stir in the pot on the stove. "Library."

Dean nodded to himself, suppressing the urge to jump up and go right there to check on him. "Guess things gone good?"

Kevin pulled the pot the side and nodded with a sigh. "Well – He didn't try to kill himself, if you mean _that_."

Castiel watched his hunter-friend closely, frowning, his eyes narrowing. Something was up ... he just didn't know what exactly.

"That's a good thing." Castiel grabbed one of the dinner rolls and ripped off a bite, stuffing it into his mouth with a low moan, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Yeah ... just ... - I tried to clean up and store most of our things away that could get in HIS way. - At least in the library. But ..." Kevin turned around, facing the both of them. "... we need to figure something out, so that he can orientate better. - He's tripping over things all the time."

Castiel snorted amused.

Dean glared at his angel-friend, saying: _That's not as funny as it sounds._

"You just have to imagine how that looks like ...", the angel chuckled and looked amused. "That big guy ..."

Dean still glared at him, annoyed. "You honestly should cut back your weed-consumption, Cas."

Castiel fell silent, chewing on the roll blissfully. "Never gonna happen.", he gave back with his mouth full of bread.

"I'm gonna get Sam.", and with that the hunter was back on his feet and on the way into the library. When he spotted the sleeping form on the couch, he slowed down and continued his walk more slow and careful, so not to make too much noise.

The restlessness deep inside him eased instantly and some of the tension fell away from him, as he watched the younger man, fast asleep. His gaze was glued to Sam, taking in the slow rise and fall of his ribcage, the slightly flushed cheeks and long lashes. The way his hands rested above the book on his stomach ... the patched up tips of his fingers ... three on the left and two on the right hand.

Again a warm feeling spread out in his belly, as a gentle smile formed on the hunter's lips. When he stood beside the couch, he crouched down and laid a hand on the man's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"Dinner's ready.", the hunter whispered, resisting the urge to lay his hand on the man's cheek. He cast his look down for a moment and bit down on his lower lip. "Sam. - Dinner's ready ..."

A disapproving moan came from the younger man and the hunter chuckled. "C'mon. - Dinner's ready." ... for the third time, and all Sam did, was nudging the hand from his shoulder.

"Kiddo. - Wakey, wakey.", he sing-sang, as he nudged the man's thigh back.

Sam's eyes snapped open and he sucked in a deep breath, staring ahead for a moment too long. As if he was seeing something above him.

Dean glanced at the ceiling and back at Sam. "Hey there, kiddo." he smiled, his hand finding its way back to Sam's shoulder.

Sam blinked and yawned, groaning as he rubbed over his face. "You're back?" ... He would've never admitted, that he was kind of waiting for Castiel's and Dean's return.

"We found out what we need to know ... so yeah." Dean's face darkened as he reminded himself that he actually had a job to work on, instead of trying to understand the growing affection towards a blind hooker.

"So ... you have a lead?" Sam probed himself up on his elbows, his hair ruffled, big green hazel-eyes blinking lazily.

"Kind of ..." He sighed and rose. "So ... dinner?"

Sam sank back. "Thanks – No."

The hunter frowned. "You sure?" ... he wouldn't push the guy.

Sam nodded.

"So ... you're staying here?" Sam could hear the uncertainty in Dean's voice.

"If it's okay?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah ... of course it is." ... _No_, he so was not, but he could badly made him come with, did he?

* * *

So Sam stayed in the library, while Kevin, Dean and Cas had dinner in the kitchen. They talked about the past couple of days. Kevin told them how they came around. Dean and Castiel filled the prophet in on what they had learned from the demon.

When they were done, Kevin cleaned up the dishes, while Dean and Castiel took showers and dressed in fresh clothes.

Later they met up in the library, where Sam was sitting on the couch, watching Kevin building up a film-projector on the table. Somehow Sam seemed lost ... his face blank – so were his eyes. As if no one was home right now.

Dean slumped down beside the younger man on the couch, petting his knee.

That's all that was needed to let Sam spring back to attention. "Yeah?"

"Nothin'." The hunter leaned back, laying one arm across the backrest behind Sam, throwing his sock-covered feet on the couch-table. "What were you thinking about?"

"Bones ...", he answered silently, a ghost of a smile flashing over his face.

Dean remembered the golden retriever from Sam's memories. _A happy memory ... _

Castiel sat down in the recliner that stood at the upper end of the small table. Kevin switched the projector on and slumped down on the chair beside the table where the projector stood on.

An old black and white movie started to play. - The only kind of films they actually had in the bunker.

As the film carried on, Sam's eyelids grew heavier again, until they fluttered shut. It wasn't like he haven't got enough sleep before ... it was just part of the darkness, that left him relentlessly with old memories ... And something that was clawing in the back of his mind, ever since the angel had been in his head.

It didn't make a lot of difference between being awake or actually sleeping anyway. So he gave into the land of dreams whenever they came knocking on his door.

Sam started to drift to his right side the deeper his sleep got.

Dean – who actually sat on the man's right side – inched away, giving Sam more space AND avoiding being too close to him. But even the couch had another end and after some time there wasn't enough space anymore to get away.

When Sam's head came to a rest on the hunter's shoulder, Dean froze. When Sam nestled against it, the hunter grew more uncomfortable. And some time during the last quarter of the movie, the younger man's head cane to a rest in Dean's lap, arm's slung around his thigh as if it was a pillow.

Dean blew out a frustrated groan, trying to shift a little, so the man's head wouldn't brush against the zipper of his jeans every time Sam moved slightly to get more and more comfortable.

When the closing credits ran down the screen, Dean had finally learned to deal with the fact that he was trapped under the gigantor's head and arm, who was snoring peacefully.

Of course the Winchester hadn't spent as much attention to the movie ever since the awkward position the both of them were in. Hell, he had been fighting the growing erection with pictures of bloody murders and undead corpses.

It partially had worked though.

He also caught himself brushing dark locks of hair out of Sam's face. Had caught himself, stroking the man's soft hair, or resting his hand on the man's shoulder or flank. - SURE each time, he withdrew as soon as he noticed anyway. So there was no reason to freak out, right?

It wasn't like the guy was growing on him. - It was just the lack of sexual activity lately and the fact, that he KNEW how Sam looked like ... without all that clothes on. The fact that Sam had been a hooker and knew how to do it right ... His thoughts trailed off further ... until the lights came back on.

* * *

Castiel stared at his hunter-friend intensively, his eyebrows furrowed, strained creases all over his face, his eyes narrowing as Dean snapped out of his daydreaming.

The angel might was stoned ... but he sure as hell wasn't stupid.

His gaze landed on Sam and the hunter's hand on the man's head, then he looked back up at his friend – curiously.

Yes, Dean Winchester was acting kind of weird lately. Not just that he had been a total dick at the beginning, when he came back with the victim. Even the fact that he had taken the man with him to the bunker had been strange. Usually he dumped victim's at Robert Singer's Salvage.

_And then ... _Dean had acted like an ass towards the guy. He at least held distance between himself and others. - But not with Sam. Not with this one.

And then? Now? Now he acted all over different again. - He actually was kind of NICE towards the man.

No, the angel didn't understand humanity completely. But he even less understood the Winchester-Men.

_... to be continued_

* * *

_sooo ^^ ... :) what do you think? :P _

_Yes? No? Bullshit? Get it over with?_

_NEXT ON: Chapter 12 ~ The Nephilim_

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	12. Chapter 12 The Nephilim

This chapter is for** SingReader :) **

**I hope you will enjoy it!**

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 12 ~ The Nephilim**_

THEN:

_Yes, Dean Winchester was acting kind of weird lately. Not just that he had been a total dick at the beginning, when he came back with the victim. Even the fact that he had taken the man with him to the bunker had been strange. Usually he dumped victim's at Robert Singer's Salvage._

___And then ... __Dean had acted like an ass towards the guy. He at least held distance between himself and others. - But not with Sam. Not with this one._

_And then? Now? Now he acted all over different again. - He actually was kind of NICE towards the man._

_No, the angel didn't understand humanity completely. But he even less understood the Winchester-Men._

* * *

NOW:

Days passed until they had found all the herbs and items they needed for the summoning spell. They were working against time here. No one knew when Kevin would have another vision and Dean would take off again to save another life.

While those days had passed, not a lot had changed. Sam prefered to spend the days on the couch in the library now, or he went with Castiel into the green house. Sitting there and touching and looking at the plants.

Castiel recognized that he always seemed to be happier there. Though ... the man still looked kind of sick. Dark circles under his eyes, his skin a bit too pale. Maybe because he didn't sleep well during the nights, even when he obviously tried to sleep less during daytime now.

So the angel took his time with watering the plants, since Sam wouldn't stay there without him. - Sam had said himself that he was afraid that he'd damage something, or knock something over ... and he didn't want to ruin the angel's beautiful place.

Even when Castiel told him, that it was THEIR place now – Sam wouldn't listen. He still didn't feel home in the bunker.

Dean had tried to find something about angel-demon-breeds. But there was nothing. In none of the old books stood something about a union between angels and demons (of _this_ kind). So it had to be impossible. And even if there would've been such a union ... The baby would've been must likely human, since angel's and demon's were possessing the humans they would be using for a sexual act ...

* * *

Sam's nightmares had increased during these days. Not that it were just those of his past anymore ... they had become different though. There were vivid dreams about creatures, fighting each other, killing each other, mixed up with disturbing dreams about his childhood.

Sam tried to push the memories about them away. He didn't need THAT on top of everything else.

* * *

**It was one of those nights anyway ... **

_So there was Bones and he saw himself playing with the dog. The sun was shining, it was warm and it smelled like elder all around in the small garden behind the house. He was chuckling and laughing, and playing fetch, when the sky darkened with black clouds, and the earth started to quake. _

_The green grass beyond his bare feet withered in a matter of moments. Wind came up and Sam saw the house that was used to be his, withering in fast motion, until nothing but dust was left ... _

_The warmth was gone and coldness settled all over the land. _

_Wind carrying dust and dirt away and fire rose on the horizon. The skies burned. The air was hot and thick and barely breathable. _

_Despair settled over his tiny heart, and fear grew up his limps, tightening around his throat as he tried to swallow. _

_He found himself in between the frontline of two invisible forces. Slowly they took on their shapes. While the ones to his left where bright blue glowing human forms, the ones on the right didn't look quite like humans. They were faceless creatures with giant mouths, showing sharp long fangs. Eyes big and black, burning with fire ... _

_Somehow Sam KNEW who they were. He KNEW it, because he felt those creatures inside himself. _

_Then they started off – Sam in the middle of the battle-field, not knowing what to do. _

_The force of fear and despair clawing deep into him as the fronts collided around him._

_Searing pain shot through his guts and as he looked down on himself there were two spears sticking out of his body. One had speared him from his behind and one on the front. Both where penetrating him, blood bubbling from the wounds relentlessly. _

_Sam cried out with all the power he had left ... _

His eyes snapped open. He laid sweat-covered on top of his bed, the bedding and blankets gone, strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tight – _so tight._ Sam choked out a muffled sob, he felt the drying moisture of tears on his cheeks. Felt the warm breath of someone else against his neck. The warmth of another body beside his.

He heard whispered words, though he wasn't quite able to understand them yet.

"It was just a dream, Sam." Dean's voice was rough and hoarse from sleep, but gentle.

When Sam had started to scream like his life depended on it, the hunter had been in the younger man's room in an instant. With his taurus in one hand and a gun in his other one, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a loosen shirt.

When he had seen Sam – with bowed body – on his bed, just shoulders and feet supporting his weight on the mattress, he had known this wasn't like the dreams the guy had usually. That this had to be hundredth time worse than all those before.

And then ... when Dean tried to wake him up and he wouldn't ... he had slapped him across the face, like he would've done it with everyone else too. (though he regretted it instantly ... this was too much like his father would've acted. Too much like John Winchester)

It hadn't helped anyway.

Not a little bit.

So he returned to plan A and tried to sooth the man with words and touches.  
And when Sam had started to claw with his nails on the sutures and stitches, Dean saw no other way than straddle him. But instead of binding him to the bedposts, he figured it'd be wiser to just hold the man down. To talk him through it.

So he lay there. At least as bathed in sweat as Sam was, and held him tight against his own body. His uppermost leg thrown over the taller man's ones, holding them down.

"_Oh god oh god oh god ..._" Sam whimpered desperately. He reached down and pressed his palm against his stomach, where moments before had been spears standing out. "_I can't ... Make it stop, please ... make it stop._"

"It was just a dream, Sam. - We'll figure it out, okay? We'll figure it out ..." Dean hushed him, stroking over the trembling form's back with his open palm. "We'll talk about it tomorrow ... 'kay?"

Sam wrapped his arm around the hunter, fisting the man's shirt in his hand tightly."Stay ... _please_ ... _please stay ..._" He actually didn't care how pathetic he must have looked and sounded like.

Sam couldn't stay all on his own in the darkness. He didn't _want_ to.

Dean thought for a moment. Weighting his options – wich weren't much in this case. "Okay, kiddo. - Just ... just let me get the comforter from my room, 'kay?"

Sam shook his head violently. "_Don't go away ..._", a desperate muffled whisper mixed with tears.

Who could resist giant hazel-green eyes, staring up at him ... so full of fear and despair ...

Dean managed a groan and let go of Sam, gathering the messed up comforter and blankets from the bed end. He then straightened them out and pulled them over the both of them.

Not a moment had passed, when he lay down, and Sam was all over him again. Clinging to him like a lifeline, burying his face in his chest, as he turned to the side to wrap his arms around him again.

"Just for the record: If you're tellin' anyone about this ... I'm so gonna whip your ass. - I've a dungeon in the basement.", Dean warned him – and he tried to sound serious ... he really tried. But failed miserably.

Sam gave a half-lough half-sob, pressing himself against the hunter some more.

* * *

Dean sneaked out under Sam's grip, pulling an extra blanket over him before he left the room. The heater wasn't on yet, so it had to be earlier than he usually got up.

In fact it didn't really matter. They got work to do. HE got work to do.

So the hunter went into his room and got himself ready for what lied ahead. They got everything prepared in their hidden dungeon the night before. And hopefully it'd work. Hopefully the angel they were going to summon would be somewhere around on earth. - Would be _alive_.

Dean went into the kitchen and got the tin with _coffee_ written on it. It was sunday. - What meant _coffee-day_.

As he had figured, the tin was empty, so he went into the storage room to get another pack, counting their remaining coffee-reserves as he was there.

Seven packs of brown gold were left.

He walked back into the kitchen half asleep and brewed a pot full. Then he went to Castiel's room, to get the angel. Not much to his surprise the angel was already up and around. Dressed and ready to go.

They drank their coffee in silence. Black with a shot of milk-powder and sweetener. Sweetener, because sugar was as much as worth as brass or silver these days. So they had to be housewifely about it.

When they were done, they went down into the basement, hearing the generators roaring to life as they passed them.

They entered room 7B, moved the shelves aside and switched on the only lightbulb there, that hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Castiel kneeled down before a brass-bowl, eying the contents. He then pulled a knife from his boot and cut into his palm, letting the blood drip onto the prepared contents, while he murmured silently in enochian.

The angel then lightened the contents with a pack of matches.

The fire blazed and the herbs burned down within seconds, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

The very next moment, a circle burned up on the floor, capturing a tall man with broad shoulders, and a glass of wine in his hand.

"Aw, no!" The man swirled around, ice-blue eyes staring at the two men before him. He cursed under his breath, taking delicate care not to spill his precious wine.

Castiel rose to his feet, a friendly grin on his lips. "Hello, brother."

The man cocked his left eyebrow, looking at the angel in annoyance. "You could have asked, Castiel, you know?"

"Would you have answered if we had _asked_?" Dean stepped forward, pulling an angel-blade out from under his jacket.

"Hey, slow down, hunter." Balthazar rose both hands as if in surrender, though he didn't bother to hide the mocking undertone in his voice. He looked around the spare room, blinking at the shackles behind him on the wall.

"Could I borrow these? ... Looks like you both have a lot of fun down here." Balthazar cocked both eyebrows, turning once around himself.

"You're not invited.", Dena shot back, giving him a fake-smile.

"So. - Why you're here ..." Castiel cleared his throat. "... is because we need to know what YOU know about _nephilims_."

The blonde angel frowned, blowing out a deep sigh and shook his head. "There's no such thing." He paused, took a zip from his wine and rolled with his eyes. "OF COURSE there is no such thing.", he repeated annoyed. "No angel would ever unite with a demon. - And even if ... the offspring would remain human ..."

Dean looked a little bit disappointed, while Castiel already smelled that there had to be more about it, as the other angel let on.

"... But there is something very close to it ..." He smacked his lips, licking a drop of dark red liquid from his lower lip.

"We're all ears." The hunter tilted his head to the side.

"I tell you what I know, and you're leaving me outta here. Deal?" Balthazar pointed at the small flames that danced up and down around him.

"You tell us what we need to know, and we let you go." Castiel took a step towards the flames, eying the man inside seriously.

"Fine." Balthazar pursed his lips. "What do you want to know?"

"Half-demon half-angel breed. - Does something like that exist? And IF – why should t_he king of hell_ send his pit-bulls after them?When they doesn't even know that they aren't human?" Dean stepped forward too.

The angel looked at the both men rather surprised. "Well ... about time someone catches a wind about THAT ..."

"Catches a wind?" Dean asked confused.

"You knew about this, Balthazar?" Disbelieve swung in Castiel's voice. "Never thought about tellin' anyone?"

"No one asked me before, brother." The trapped angel cocked both eyebrows, looking at him incurious.

Dean huffed and shook his head. "Ignorant bastard.", he muttered under his breath.

"Sorry, I can't hear you over my greatness!", Balthazar called out.

Castiel cleared his throat. "The sooner we're done, the sooner you can go." He looked up, catching his brother's gaze. "If these people aren't nephilims, what are they?"

Balthazar chuckled and rolled with his eyes. "Okay ... I can tell you what I've heard a long, long time ago ..."

Castiel stemmed his hands into his sides. Dean crossed his arms before his chest.

Both listening.

"Long story short: God messed up. The angels split into two fractions. The ones on god's side and the ones on lucifer's side. Also called: Angels versus demons. Then things got nasty. Some angels and a hand full of demons stayed on earth. - God decided to send one of his sons after them." Balthazar seemed to think for a moment.

When he didn't carry on with his story, Dean spoke up: "And?"

"AND? ... I don't know ... who the hell do you think I am? - I just know that Gabriel, the angels and the demons were gone. Just vanished. So they suspected that he got killed in the process of cleaning earth for our father's newest toy ..." He huffed shaking his head as he eyed Dean annoyed from tip to toe.

"That doesn't explain why you said the thing about nephilims and stuff ..." Dean frowned. "Gotta be something else, huh?"

Balthazar cocked an eyebrow at the human. "Yeah well ... It happens that I do know, that Gabriel isn't dead. - It happens too that I know that Gabriel didn't kill those angels and demons." He cleared his throat. "But he gave them freedom ..."

Both looked at the captured angel curiously. "What do you mean by freedom?", Dean was the first one to ask.

"Freedom. - The power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants. - Absence of subjection to foreign domination or despotic government. - The power of self-determination attributed to the will; the quality of being independent of fate or necessity. - Rings a bell?" Balthazar looked questioning at the hunter.

"I KNOW what freedom means ...", the hunter huffed angrily.

Balthazar gave him a _why-are-you-asking-then-look_ in return.

"My friend attended to know, HOW Gabriel gave them freedom." Castiel fixed his brother with a stern look. "Did he used a spell, or ritual. - What did he do, and where are they? - What does it have to do with those people?"

"I don't know. - I just know he freed them. I know that they're living among humanity. If you're lucky and you're in possession of one of these creatures you surely will be able to find the others." Balthazar rolled his eyes unamused about the both men's stupidity. "They have different abilities – as if you mix demon- and angel-mojo in a shaker ..."

Castiel and Dean shared a long look, both eyebrows cocked, the same idea forming in their minds at the same time.

Castiel looked back at the captured angel, pursing his lips. "It doesn't happen that you know HOW someone could possibly find other nephilims when you own one?"

Balthazar chuckled amused. "Do I look to you as if I don't? OF COURSE i do." He took another swig from the wine, smacking his lips. A deep sigh fell from his lips. "Of course with a spell, you idiot."

Dean turned around and left the room, just to come back moments later with a sheet of paper and a pencil.

Castiel sniffed annoyed. "ingredients? Spell? - Everything _you_ know, _we_ want to know. Write it down and you're a free angel again."

Balthazar extended his free hand towards the hunter, muttering an insult under his breath about _hairless apes_ and how god could even been interested in creating something like them. He muttered something about that it'd been better if their father would've left them as the slimy goop they had been.

Dean stared daggers at the angel, as he thrust the paper and the pencil into the man's hand.

After a while of scribbling, drawing and other insults against humanity he was done. "Are we done? I've a date with a hot needy woman. - She'll get cold and catch pneumonia ..."

Dean waved him off, snapping the paper and pencil from the man's hand. "If it doesn't work, we'll get to you again."

Castiel let the fire of the holy oil starve with a single motion of his right hand.

Balthazar rolled with his eyes again, sighing. "Sure you will, Winchester. - Just take care of your angel-demon-mix up there. Guess he won't be happy about being used AGAIN.", and with that the fluttering noise of wings was heard and the angel was gone.

Dean's lips formed into a thin line as his and Castiel's gaze met. The hunter fisted the piece of paper in his hand, staring at it pensively.

* * *

Kevin was up and around, when the two of them emerged from the basement. He stirred in a pot of oatmeal, taking delicate care not to burn it while it cooked.

Dean stuffed the piece of paper into the pocket of his jeans, as the both split up in the corridor, and the hunter went for Sam's room. When he entered, the man was still asleep, sprawled out on his back, snoring comfortably.

The hunter thought for a moment to let him sleep in. Though he couldn't, as much as he wanted. They needed to talk about this. They would be running out of time soon. Needed to talk about the ritual, the spell and what they needed from Sam. - _After breakfast. _Maybe in the green house – somewhere where Sam would feel more comfortable ...

So Dean walked over to the bed and sat down on its edge, watching the man a moment longer, a soft smile playing on his lips. Again he felt a warmth spread through his body, like nothing else could warm him up in the entire world. A tingly feeling, that let his mind fly up towards the highest heights.

As he realized what he was about to let happen, his face darkened and he starved the comfortable feeling pretty damn fast. Thinking of what could possibly happen if he would give into the feelings that started to blossom deep down inside him.

"Sam.", he choked out, letting the remaining warmth draw away, as if the feelings could disappear as easy as that.

The man stirred and his eyes flew open. A soft grin played on his tender lips as he looked towards the hunter. He sniffed and stretched, groaning as he did so.

"Mornin'.", the younger man muttered. After another moment he whispered a silent. "Thanks for staying."

Dean had to smile again (like an idiot). He was so glad the guy was blind and couldn't see him.

Though the hunter was wrong. Sam SAW it. In the way the gleaming silvery strands of energy enlightened a little bit more.

"You're beautiful like that, hunter." Sam cocked his head to the side, staring at him. His voice still hoarse from sleep.

Dean frowned. "Like what?"

"The thing you're feeling right now. - It makes you all lighten up ..." Sam smiled at the brighter light, as it gleamed up again, this time a little bit more than before. "It looks like your soul's smiling and happy."

Dean blushed. Dean Winchester blushed – like a chick. He shook his head. Going back into denial was the best thing he could do –_ he thought. _

Sam sighed, staring at the man a little bit longer. "Don't do that ..."

"Do what?" _Yes_, Dean Winchester knew exactly what he was doing.

"The thing you're doing. - Or thinking." Sam rolled over on his side, never letting the man out of his sight.

"I'm actually thinking about breakfast, and getting your sasquatch-ass over into the kitchen without you tripping over something." With that Dean was on his feet.

"Not hungry." Sam stretched again, the hem of his shirt slipping up over his belly a little.

Dean's gaze flew right to the small space in between the hem and the waistband of Sam's sweat-pants. Unable to look away ... like a car accident: You don't wanna look, but you have to.

The Winchester tore his gaze from the spot. "Sure you are. - You left lunch and dinner yesterday. You gotta be starving ..." The hunter sniffed and cocked an eyebrow at the man. "So man up and follow me."

With a sigh, Sam swung his legs out of bed, reaching with his hand out for Dean.

The hunter turned around and let Sam lay his hand on his shoulder. He then led him into the bathroom, where he let him do his business. After that, he guided him into the kitchen and let him sit down on the bench.

Kevin and Castiel were already there, waiting for the both of them. The prophet wore a mischievous grin on his lips at the sight of Sam's ruffled hair and Dean's dumbfounded expression on his face.

They ate. Cas, Kevin and Dean talking about all-day-stuff, while Sam listened. He didn't think that he had much to tell. They already knew everything about him – what was quite embarrassing anyway. So he prefered to keep his mouth shut.

"What about you?", Kevin looked at Sam, reaching over the table and poking him into the bicep.

"What?" Sam swallowed the bite of oatmeal.

"What was your favorite food before the apocalypse?" Big brown eyes, ocean-blue ones and deep-green ones stared at him, waiting for an answer.

Sam thought. "Peanutbutter cups."

Dean chuckled.

Kevin pursed his lips, thinking.

Castiel looked at him with wide eyes.

"Man ... I miss sweets ..." Kevin sighed.

"Yeah ... I miss pie." Dean took a swig from the coffee.

"Apropos: We're running out of meat ...", the angel stared at his empty bowl. "... eggs and milk. - I'll make a trip to the Millers later. See what we can trade ..."

They all nodded.

"I'll check on our storage and look what we're able to spare ..", Kevin spoke after a while.

Castiel followed Kevin into the storage-room next door, after Dean gave them an unmistakable sign to take off. He wanted to talk to Sam on his own first.

"Wanna check out the green house?" _No_ – so _not_ obvious that it was the green house he wanted to check out. Though ... he figured that he should ask Sam about it in a more pleasant surrounding. Maybe it wouldn't look like Dean had wanted to keep him alive in case he would need him for something again. - At least the hunter thought so. Because he would've had the feeling in Sam's place.

Sure Sam just KNEW that something was up, when Dean asked him to go to the green house. Because Dean never went there, except he needed something from the angel. That much did he already know. - So the hunter had to have a bad conscience about what would being asked or done in the middle of the plants.

When they stood in the middle of the green house and Sam was watching the greenish glowing energy of the plants, looping through the darkness, there was silence.

So Sam waited ... because Dean didn't bring him here just to watch the flowers grow. - The hunter wasn't THAT kind of a man.

After another long while of silence, Sam sighed. "You know ... I know that you don't like that rabbit's food. Neither you are as interested in it like Castiel is. - So why don't you just spit it out?"

Dean turned around stuttered, rubbing over his face with both hands. "It's ... there are others like you out there ..."

Sam nodded. "Thought you knew that already?"

"I do. - But ... the thing is ... we know now WHAT you are. - _Kind of_ at least ... and it'd be important to find the others before the demons get to them." Dean tried to explain.

Sam frowned, a shiver running up his spine. _WHAT_. _WHAT_ he was. "And _WHAT_ am I?"

Dean chuckled nervously. "Some kind of demon-angel-thing."

Yeah well, maybe it wasn't that funny after all ... at least he didn't hear the younger man chuckle.

Sam muttered under his breath. He was a _THING_. - Good to know. Until a couple of days ago he had at least been Morgan – a all-day-hooker ... Now he was some inbreed between angel and demon. Where were his wings? Where was his bloodthirsty soul and black eyes?

"Huh.", was all he managed to say, as he felt the hunter's look on his back.

"We'd have a chance to find THEM before the others can, you know? - It's a ritual ... and ..."

"What do you need from me?", Sam asked silently. He had known that the hunter needed something, so why not saying it streight away? After no answer came, Sam spun around, staring at him. "You wouldn't talk about it with me HERE, when you wouldn't need something from me for this ritual."

"Your blood ..." The words just tumbled from his lips.

Dean eyed the man cautiously. Noticing Sam's face fall behind a mask of calmness and amusement.

"How much?" He cast his look down to the floor.

"Just a bit. - Nothing dangerous of course ..." Dean answered hesitantly._ ... otherwise i wouldn't have asked. _

Sam sniffed, his shoulder sloughed forward. "If it helps. - It's not on me ..."

The hunter blew out a breath of relief, not trying to hide the tension that fell from him.

"You ... you need it right now?" Sam cleared his throat silently, turning back around to the tomatoes he had been inspecting earlier.

"**No** ... NO ... not right now ... we need to get some other things first." Dean didn't exactly know what to think of the weird sound on the edges of the other man's words.

"'kay." Maybe the hunter had known WHY they kept him. Maybe they had known from the very beginning that they'd need him further. This time it were a few drops of blood ... the next time maybe something more ... MAYBE it had been a failure to give into the hunter's implicit suggestion of starting over ...

"Look ... I – It's not like I planned any of this, okay?" The hunter – at least – had to try to make it clear that he didn't know. He didn't want Sam to feel used, like he was taking advantage of him. He wanted him to know, that he could still say _no_. - Even when it was just about a few drops of blood. Even when they both knew that Sam was the only possible source for them.

Dean just wanted him to know that he wouldn't just_ take it from him._

"I know." Yeah, it was a lie, but way easier to deal with, as with an argument.

The hunter nodded to himself. Sparing a comment that might would come out wrong.

"Can I stay here? - For a while?" Sam swallowed hard, running his fingertips over the leaf of the tomato. "Alone?"

Dean frowned, not cool with it. Though he shook his head and said a silent "_Yes_."

* * *

Back in the kitchen, where Kevin wrote down, of what they were running out soon, Dean gave his angel-friend a look. The angel gave him a short nod, patted Kevin's shoulder, who looked up questioning at the both of them, but seemed to understand a split moment later when he realized that Sam hadn't come back with Dean.

Sam didn't leave the green house for a long time. Castiel stood for a while in the threshold, leaning against the door frame, watching him. Then he started to gather ripe vegetables and fruits in a basket to trade. He stopped beside Sam for a moment, without saying a word.

But Sam just looked back over his shoulder, shaking his head.

So the angel left him on his own.

* * *

It was about noon, when Dean came by to check on their guest, watching him from the open door for a long while.

Sam didn't know WHY he was kind of disturbed about Dean's _wish_. He KNEW they haven't anyone else to ask and it wasn't like they wanted to use him as a sacrifice, as if he had to give his life for the ritual. _Damn_, he could save lives, couldn't he? For the first time in his life he could do something really _profound_ and _important_.

So why did he feel all dirty and filthy again?

It wasn't like they wanted something from him that was wrong ... Or did they?

What would they do with those people when they find them?

With a sigh he turned around ... unable to block out the presence of someone else behind him. "Is Cas back already?"  
Dean shook his head. "No." Somehow it hurt that the man kinda asked for Castiel. On the other hand ... HE was here, so he couldn't ask for HIM anyway.

Somehow the situation started to get messed up. - At least emotionally – for Dean.

"I'm just screwed up. - It's not because of you or the others." Sam hesitated for a moment. "What are you gonna do, when you find the rest of ... those who are like me?"

Dean shrugged and looked at Sam as if it was the most stupid question he ever had been asked. "Taking them to a safe place I guess."

Sam glanced back over his shoulder. "What's gonna happen there to them? Are you taking them here?"

Dean frowned. "No, I won't take them to the bunker. - Maybe to Bobby's. It's the safest place I know besides the bunker. - Until we know what's up and what exactly the king of hell's afraid of ..."

Sam nodded and turned around, watching the hunter intently. "You're not gonna kill us, are you?"

Dean chuckled nervously. What a question was that? - Of course Dean had thought about that. - If they were dangerous somehow ... completely unlike Sam ... maybe he had to. "What would make you think that?"

Sam shrugged and turned around completely. "I don't know ... you're a hunter ... you're supposed to kill monsters, aren't you?"

Dean didn't like the sound of Sam's words. "Is that what you're worried about? - That I'm gonna kill you?" He didn'T believe he was actually saying that.

"I'm not worried about ME. I'm worried about the others. Those that are like me ..." The younger man tilted his head to the side, a strand of hair falling into his face as he did so.

"Why should I do that? - Do you know something I don't know?" ... _oh god,_ how badly did he want to brush the chestnut-brown bang behind Sam's ear again ...

Sam shook his head, big innocent eyes looking into his, as if he was capable of seeing them. So hurt and beaten as if the hunter just had insulted him. "I don't know anything about ... whatever you wanna call what I am."

Dean fell silent and thought for a moment. He felt suspicion rising in his guts, though he believed the man's words. His question had obviously hurt Sam somehow. - So no. He told him the truth about that.

"You're a nephilim, Sam.", he said quietly, "We will call your kind: _Nephilims_."

_... to be continued_

**A/N:**_okay ... I know I know ... you guys want to read them kissing and cuddling and having sex. _

_And I'm SO SORRY it didn't happen in this chapter. _

_JUST BECAUSE i've some cruel things planned for the both of them before they can make love to each other, okay? _

_But i promise they will, 'kay? I've actually written their first kiss already. _

_I'm working frantically on the sex-scene now. _

_For one: I've to get on with the plot._

_Second: I don't think that Dean's ready for that ...because of the way he got raised, because of the people he lost ... Because of everything, you know? _

_I know this is BY FAR my slowest built wincest-fic ... * sigh *_

_I hope ya'll can forgive me ^^_

_& hang on. The good times are coming._


	13. Chapter 13 Survivor

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 13 ~ Survivor**_

THEN:

_"You're a nephilim, Sam.", he said quietly, "We will call your kind: ____Nephilims__."_

* * *

NOW:

Dean had found a bunch of old records for their phonograph in one of the storages of the bunker about a year ago. He had never thought about getting them out ... but now? To be honest: He hadn't done it for himself (as he had pretended he had). He had digged them out and carried them into the library _for Sam_.

Because the man was either in the green house or in his room, or he sat in the library, staring ahead or watching them cautiously while they looked for the ingredients for the ritual. And THAT couldn't be healthy. Not a little bit.

So Dean figured, music could probably help the younger man to coax him out of his depressive mood and make him a little bit happier. Sure, the tunes weren't what neither of them would've been listening to under normal circumstances. But hey – it was worth a try, wasn't it?

Maybe Sam'd like the music (at least a bit). To be honest: Sam's bad mood, let Dean feel bad. And the further the nightmares increased in their intensity the more moody all of them got. Mostly, because none of them got a healthy night's rest anymore. No night in wich they got woken by agonizing screams multiple times ...

Three nights now ... in wich the dreams had been so bad, that Sam had been clawing on his own skin, leaving dark reed marks, and partly scratches on it. Even Dean had gotten the better piece of them once, leaving an angry-looking scratch on his forearm behind.

The three had come to terms, that they had to do something. To help Sam AND to help themselves. Because sooner or later it'd get unbearable. For every single one of them.

Some time during the day, Dean removed the sutures from Sam's shoulder and chest, deciding that it had healed up nicely. Though it'd scar ...

And all that Sam could think about, that it'd be the first scars in his life he'd be able to be proud of ...

* * *

Dean picked up his alarm clock from the nightstand, grabbed his pillow and his comforter and went over into Sam's room.

The younger man lay already in bed, on the half closest to the door, snuggled into the bedding and pillow, ready to fall asleep, when the door to his room opened.

"Dean?", he asked, instantly worried.

"I'm gonna sleep with you." Dean stopped in his tracks shaking his head. "That didn't came out as I wanted it to ..."

"Figured.", Sam looked in his direction warily.

"Okay. - Plan is: I'm gonna sleep with you over here. BEFORE you start screaming again, I'm gonna wake you up. Okay?" He explained calmly.

It was embarrassing enough to disturb the other men's night's sleep all the damn time. But that they thought that they needed to baby-sit him all the damn time, now even at night? - That was beyond awkward. - Even for someone like Sam.

"You could ... get me a place somewhere else in the bunker ... This place seems to be-", he didn't come further.

"Dude, NO.", Dean interrupted him, "We're not going there. - You're part of us now. We're not even START to talk about that."

"But-" Sam would have valid arguments to do so.

But the hunter obviously didn't want to listen. "Shut up and scoot over, dude. I don't have all night."

The younger man's eyes widened. "In the same bed?"

Dean chuckled and walked around the bed, throwing his stuff on it and placed the alarm-clock on the nightstand. "I'm not gonna sleep in the chair, chuckle-head. - So move over, or I'll make ya'."

"What if I don't want to?" There was a glint of something in his circles – too short for Dean to put his finger on it though.  
"I'm coming over every night for a wrestling-cuddling-session lately.", the hunter pointed out with a cocky grin. _... So what did it matter?_

Sam's expression changed and all of a sudden his defense was gone and there was something else ... shame?

"Yeah ...", Sam choked out, "you're right ... it's ... it's-"

"It'll be more comfortable for the both of us. Don't you think?", the hunter's voice was softer now, more empathic than before. "So ... just scoot over some more and it'll be fine."

Sam looked aside, inching further to the edge.

Dean flopped down on the bed, stuffing his own pillow under his head, and pulled the comforter over him. Then he lay back with a relaxed groan, staring at the ceiling, crossing his arms under his head. "Lights out?"

"Lights out." Sam validated after a moment of confusion about the question.

The same moment the younger man told Dean, the hunter noticed his mistake, rolling his eyes at himself and blew out a frustrated sigh.

"Don't you worry about it.", Sam said out loud.

"'bout what?" _Oh hell_, the Winchester damn sure knew what he meant.

"You know ... one moment you're as bright as a supernova short before she bursts. - And the very next moment ... I don't know ... I mean ... I don't know what to think about you, you know?" Sam turned on his bed.

Dean felt the man beside him move. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. Sam was going to talk him to death ...

"Never mind ..."

Dena felt the man beside him shift again. "Just try to sleep, okay?" No, a Dean Winchester didn't talk like that with another man – like _that_, like on a slumber party.

"Yeah ..." Sam sucked in his lower lip and faced away from the hunter.

Both lay awake for quite some time ... both staring into the darkness. Both thinking about stuff ... (also about each other). Because – no matter what Sam had endured in the past ... how bad he might have felt. THIS, HERE was different. Even when the hunter seemed gruff most of the time and wouldn't talk a lot at all. The thing he saw in him looked so much different as what he pretended to be. For the first time in years he could truly TALK (if he wanted to). It wasn't just about getting yelled at and told what he had to do next. It didn't was about getting all naked, getting the other one all bothered and hot.

It wasn't about sex here. It wasn't about getting a client, getting him off and moving on to the next one. It wasn't about getting the money or things to trade together to pay Hank or to get food anymore.

It kind of felt NORMAL.

And maybe ... maybe this was truly some kind of heaven. _A safe place_. A place where they cared about each other. Not like out there on the streets. It was cold out there. Most people acted selfish these days. No one cared about the other one. You were practically on your own.

Though Sam hadn't cared about THAT. He had prefered to be alone, even when he often had wished he wasn't. Even when he had NEEDED someone to hold onto, and though there had no one been to do so.

He hadn't have friends. - EVER. He kept to himself – _always_.

But now? Now he wasn't sure if he HAD TO keep to himself anymore. If it was truly necessary to do so. Or if he could allow himself to open up more, to show more of the person he used to be ... if there was still something left deep inside him that was like this person anyway.

"Don't think so loud, I can still hear ya'.", Dean muttered and sniffed, turning to his side with a huff, in Sam's direction. "Might as well wanna fill me in?"

Sam scooted on his back, brushing over his face. Actually he didn't want to tell the hunter anything he was thinking. BUT then again ... it didn't feel wrong ... and somehow – now that there was nothing left to lose ...

"There's nothing I could fill you in, hunter." Sam didn't want to sound as rejecting as he possibly did.

"You know ... The angel, me and Cas summoned he was talking about abilities you guys have.", he started. Actually that was just a little thing he had been thinking about. Mainly he was thinking about the hot guy beside him. The one with the dimples and amazingly green-brown eyes when he smiled. Plus: He could've get the cot wich he stored in his room ... _just in case._ But he hadn't want to. FIRST: because the cot was too damn uncomfortable. And SECOND: because he wanted to be close to Sam.

He actually didn't know what he was thinking at the moment ... or what he HAD TO think.

Dean glanced over to Sam through the darkness, but all he was able to make out was the profile of his face.

"You know ... It's dark here ... where I am at the moment. - And ... I'm pretty much screwed up. But ... I'll do everything you want me to. Everything you need me to do, to save those people, or find them, or whatever ... I'll do it." Sam swallowed and turned his head towards the hunter.

Dean wasn't the guy for chick flick moments. He had never been. But in this case ... he may could make an exception.

"That's not why I told you that. - I thought ... you might wanna know? You know ... you're practically adopted. And it's about you." He cleared his throat. "I didn't tell you that, because I think that you've any secrets."

Sam exhaled audibly. "Just because your angel-friend would know. - That's why you believe what I say. Because you KNOW." _... but what about the others?_

Sam had a point, that much the hunter had to admit.

"Just listen, okay? - I'm not sayin' that again: There aren't a lot people left out there. More less the good ones. - And I'm pretty sure – no matter what you did before – that you're one of them." Dean looked back at the ceiling.

The younger man drew in a long breath and held it for a moment.

"No ... I'm not. - I'm all things. But good is none of them, trust me." Sure Sam was referring to his time on the strip ... or general on his line of business.

"I don't care what your business WAS. - All that counts is the here and now, you know?"

Wouldn't it have been for the fact, that the hunter was who he was ... Sam could've fallen in love with him right then. Yeah, he may acted like an ass sometimes, and all these cocky remarks and things. But that? Right there? When he was talking and really meant what he said? That was real, authentic. THAT was him. When his soul all lightened up like just now ...

"You're doing the ritual tomorrow? - To find the others?", Sam NEEDED to change the topic.

"Yeah, guess so. - We're already running on borrowed time.", the hunter answered silently.

Sam turned back on his left side, snuggling into the bedding.

Maybe, when they would find the others ... he wouldn't feel that alone anymore.

* * *

Sure this night didn't go down as the others before. Even when Dean had tried to wake Sam up BEFORE it'd get worse ... it hadn't worked. He had wrecked his voice, clawing on the sutured skin on his chest, as if he wanted to rip his heart out.

And again, the hunter found himself completely helpless.

There was nothing he could've done instead of trying to sooth the younger man with closeness. - Closeness Dean had already accepted to give.

Even when they didn't talk about THAT during the days. Because no Winchester snuggled another man back to sleep.

At least not officially.

* * *

Castiel had prepared the table in the library for the ritual. There was a giant paper-map of the US sprawled out over it, matches, herbs and some bones laying beside. The only thing that was left was the blood of a nephilim.

_Sam's blood. _

The man had watched his hosts moving through his darkness. Following every very move as they prepared stuff, glancing every now and then into the hands in his lab. If they would just _look_ like hands ... All red and blue strands of energy like veins forming finger-shaped silhouettes.

"You ready?", Dean frowned at the younger man, who stared absently onto his empty hands.

Sam's head snapped up and he gave him a short nod as he rose. Slowly he felt his way towards the table just a couple of feet away. The hunter came to his side and guided him towards the brass-bowl on the table.

"Shall I?" It was a silent, hesitant question ...

Sam shook his head No and accepted the knife that was given into his left hand.

"Don't cut too deep. - We don't need much for this.", Dean reminded him, one hand resting in between the younger man's shoulder-blades.

Sam nodded again.

Castiel stood on the other side of the table, throwing the ingredients in the bowl and shoved it in front of the man.

"We're ready when you are." The angel's lips formed into a thin line.

Sam drew the sharp side of the knife over his open palm, cutting a red line into it, that instantly started to bleed violently. He spread his fingers out, so that the blood was dripping into the bowl and wouldn't run down somewhere else.

Seconds later he felt the hand from his back move away, a piece of fabric got wrapped around his palm. A gentle hand folded his fingers together. "Press down on it.", Dean whispered.

Sam just stepped back, giving the both of them enough space to work.

That was when the chanting started and Sam SAW the fire erupting and dying a moment later as if it had been starved.

What happened next, Sam hadn't ever seen. White gleaming small dots formed before him, what looked like they were resting on a flat surface. Possibly the table.

"Damn it ...", the hunter hissed and a loud thump was heard as if someone had thrown his fist onto a hard surface.

"What?", Sam asked unsure. _Maybe it wasn't enough? _

"Nothin'." A deep sigh. "It didn't work.", Castiel added saddened, while Sam could hear the frustrated puffs of air, Dean blew out through his nose.

Sam shifted his weight from one foot to another, hearing the hunter mumbling something under his breath.

"I think it worked ...", he said finally – unsure if this wasn't making him more of the freak he didn't want to be.

Both men stared at him curiously.

"You're seein' something?" Dean turned around fully and tilted his head to the side.

Sam nodded. "Wanna give me a pen?"

A moment later he felt a hand cupping his and a thin piece of metal was placed into it. "There you go, kiddo. - Show us."

Sam stepped forward, until he felt the edge of the table against his hips and bowed further over it. Then he started to mark the places, where he saw the flickering blue candle-like lights dancing. Seven marks ... spread over five states in the center.

"Seven ..." Castiel muttered. "Just seven are left ..."

Sam laid the pen down and stepped back again. "Does this make sense?"

Dean sniffed. "Yeah ... it does ... it's just ..." His voice broke. "There are so less of them left ..."

"Does it show me too?" Sam tilted his head to the side, waiting for an answer. The two men shared a glance. "Because ... IF it shows me too ... then you're all in danger, you know? IF they are able to track nephilims down like this ..."

Sam hadn't have to explain further. Both men instantly understood what he meant. Even when the bunker was warded to the teeth, they still could catch up with them when they would _leave_ the bunker.

"No ... it's not showing where you are ..." Castiel sounded rather surprised. "Odd ..."

"Well, just let's be glad about that." The hunter didn't look away from the seven marks Sam had made on the map.

Castiel could tell, that Dean was now itching to leave. - So was he. Just with Dean it was always worse. He had seen it in the moment, Sam had placed the marks on the map.

Finally the hunter tore his gaze away from the map and looked at Sam, who remained standing where he was, look glued to the table, the makeshift bandage in his hand slowly soaking up the blood.

"Now that we got that ... - Let's see the cut and let me patch it up properly before you catch blood poisoning." With that, the hunter took Sam by the wrist of his left hand and eased the pen from it, guiding him over tho the couch.

He then went for the first aid kit into the kitchen and was back a few minutes later. He ever so carefully unwrapped the younger man's hand, ghosting with gentle fingers over the soft skin on the back of it.

"That's gonna sting a bit.", the hunter muttered, as he cleaned the wound carefully.

Sam didn't even flinch. He just stared at what Dean was doing. He didn't feel the burn of the antiseptic fluid, didn't feel the sting when the hunter cleaned it out.

Sam remained completely still, just letting himself feel the soft hand under his. He liked the kind of warmth that was radiating from it. The way his and the hunter's strands of energy seemed to mingle and flowing into each other as he held it. It looked like they were melting and becoming one the longer they stayed in contact.

Castiel seemed to be close, since Sam could hear him clearing his throat. "There's just one thing ..."

Dean laid gauze over the wound and wrapped a bandage around it, so that it was tight, but not too tight.

"What'd be that?" He shot a glance at the angel.

So did Sam, a questioning expression on his face.

"How do we know WHO it is, when these people themselves do not know?" The angel crossed his arms in front of his chest, his head slightly tilted to the side.

"Huh ..." That was the million dollar question.

Sam blinked at the hunter, who still held the wrapped up hand in his.

An answer to Castiel's question seemed to form in Dean's mind, but then his expression changed and darkened.

"I could go with ...", Sam said silently. "I could tell you ..."

Dean shook his head, while the angel's face showed something like relief about Sam's offer. Surely both of the men had thought about that too.

"It's too dangerous out there, Sam. - Especially for you." Was there something like worry swinging in the hunter's voice?

Castiel watched his hunter-friend as he looked at the nephilim with an expression that said more than thousand words could do. He truly WAS concerned about Sam's safety outside of the bunker. There were emotions playing over his friend's face he hadn't seen in years ...

The angel was truly stunned.

"You won't know who you're looking for, if you don't take me with. - I know you'll keep me safe ... don't you?" A soft smile formed on Sam's lips, reaching his eyes a moment later and lit them up. "Besides ... I'm already in heaven, what could possibly happen to a already dead p- ... _thing_ like me?"

Dean shook his head and chuckled. Then his features went serious again and he let go of Sam's hand he had held too long anyway.

"It's a long trip, Sammy.", he reminded him, watching the other man closely. "We'll hole up in places you don't know. - There's no way you'll be able to go even pee on your own." Somehow he wished he didn't need to take the man with him. Then again ... he'd worry his ass off, if Sam would stay at the bunker with Kevin. Well knowing that it'd be hard on the kid to look out for the sasquatch. Foremost during the nights. "Just because we'll take you with doesn't mean I'm cool with it. You'll follow my orders. - You'll do as I say without hesitation."

Sam gave him a short nod. He knew he could help. He NEEDED to help. - Doing something useful (that would safe lives) was better than hanging around in the bunker. And he'd get out. He'd be help, even if he'd get hurt or if he'd die. He would've had a chance to show that he was MORE than just a whore.

_... to be continued_

* * *

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	14. Chapter 14 My Life And My Soul

_**THANK YOU TO ALL MY REVIEWERS & FOLLOWERS & FAVORITES**_

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 14 ~ My Life And My Soul**_

THEN:

_"It's a long trip, Sammy.", he reminded him, watching the other man closely. "We'll hole up in places you don't know. - There's no way you'll be able to go even pee on your own." Somehow he wished he didn't need to take the man with him. Then again ... he'd worry his ass off, if Sam would stay at the bunker with Kevin. Well knowing that it'd be hard on the kid to look out for the sasquatch. Foremost during the nights. "Just because we'll take you with doesn't mean I'm cool with it. You'll follow my orders. - You'll do as I say without hesitation."_

_Sam gave him a short nod. He knew he could help. He NEEDED to help. - Doing something useful (that would safe lives) was better than hanging around in the bunker. And he'd get out. He'd be help, even if he'd get hurt or if he'd die. He would've had a chance to show that he was MORE than just a whore._

* * *

NOW:

They had a long talk about stupid rules that night, as they lay beside each other in Sam's bed. Dean acted like a giant ass again, as if he wanted Sam to say that he could go and fuck himself.

Annoying rules about his "_baby_" at most. As if the car was his girlfriend. What actually proofed his point that hunters WERE in fact weird, crazy and nothing more than freaks with guns.

But Sam listened. He listened carefully. Because he didn'T want to piss the hunter off. Even when he knew that the man wouldn't kick his ass (even if he threatened him to do so).

* * *

The very next morning they took off. Sam, Dean and the angel drove towards their first destination-point. They had worked out a route, in wich they'd check out one place after another. All in all it'd take them three weeks to get it over with, driving through five states, including breaks.

Castiel loaded their trunk with tins, cans, beef jerky and water-bottles. Sure they had to restock after about a week, if they'd live just on that. But Dean counted on getting some real meat in between. Rabbits, snakes or whatever he'd hunt down.

They said their goodbyes to Kevin before they left. The kid seemed definitely unpleased about the fact that they took Sam with. Neither of them questioned why, or what his problem was. Because they couldn't afford to pay attentions to everyone's feelings or moods these days.

Maybe it was because he got used to NOT being alone in the bunker. - Spending three weeks all on someone's own could take a tall on you. That was for sure. Situations like that could drive you stir crazy.

And it was much worse when you were practically locked down.

That was why Dean had stopped by at Robert Singer's Salvage with Castiel and Sam on the backseat of his baby.

The old man stood on the porch, a riffle in his hands, when he first saw the chain-link-fenced high door swing open and a black sleek car pulling up on the driveway.

The car stopped short after it had passed the door, and Castiel hopped out, hurrying to close it again, since they have had walkers on their tail for the past two miles.

These bastards were slow, though they were able to smell you at at least one and a half mile when the wind was optimal.

Dean brought the car to a hold in front of the porch of the house and killed the engine.

"Hey, Bobby!", he called out as he wrenched his baby's door open.

"Dean!", the old man called back, with a warm smile on his bearded face. "I didn't expect you that soon!"

Dean chuckled and rubbed his nose, motioning towards the backseat. "We've a serious lead on my case ..."

Bobby's face darkened and he gave him a nod. "Why don't you come inside? - Got coffee."

Dean nodded back and bowed down to look into the backseat. "C'mon, guys. Get out, let's have a break." He first looked at Cas, then at Sam.

While the angel gave him a nod, Sam seemed uncomfortable with the thought.

The hunter opened the door to the backseat anyway, ignoring the younger man's hesitation and let Sam get out of the car. He then took him by the left wrist (like usual, because holding hands was something for chicks. Though Sam was used to the hunter in the meanwhile and knew it wasn't because of something personal. It was just because it was Dean. And Dean didn't hold hands ...).

"Who's that?", the bearded man asked, as he watched the hunter, leading a stranger towards the porch. "Is that ...", something bloomed in the old man's eyes and a genuine smile formed on his lips. "That's Sammy, ain't he?"

Sam frowned, trying to put his finger onto WHOM this vice belonged. "Where are we?", he whispered.

"At the Salvage. - Ya' know. _Bobby_. Robert. Singer." Dean smiled a little at the surprised expression on Sam's face as he told him. He hadn't expected him to jump around happily ... but though ...

"You told him about me?", Sam asked insecure, slowing the both of them down.

"Sure-" The hunter bit his tongue. Yes, he had told Bobby about the hooker, whose life he had saved. He had told his old friend that the guy was a man called Sam, whose parents were used to visit him years ago. So huge YES to the fact that Robert Singer KNEW, who Sam was and what he had done since he last time he had seen the chubby toddler (Who now was a well grown man). "Don't you worry about that."

Sam stopped, Castiel who was short behind him, nearly bumped into his back. "I'd like to stay in the car."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the man he had pulled along. "No way. - We're staying for about an hour. You're gonna freeze your ass off out here."

Sam wanted to say something, as a gruff voice was heard: "I don't have all day, boys!"

"Got a date?" Dean gave the older man a cocky grin.

Bobby gave a glare back.

Sam didn't counter again. Instead he followed. Not wanting to make a scene.

The didn't stay at Bobby's for long. Just an hour, until Dean had the things gathered he needed and gulped down his coffee.

The situation was awkward, as they sat in the small kitchen. Sam was silent, his look cast down. Bobby stared at the hazel-eyed man, deep in thoughts.

When they were about to leave, Bobby gave everyone a hug. Even Sam. Whispering something in his ear, that let him blush.

Castiel and Dean alternated with one another when it was about to drive. So they made it to their first destination within another nine hours. But they wouldn't find the nephilim in the small village a hand full of people had holed up.

The woman had gotten killed a couple of hours ago. She had been found in a shed with her throat ripped out. Sulfur all around.

Sam slept on occasion in the backseat, folded up against the back-door.

After finding the second nephilim much less alive than the first one, their hopes sunk. They were a step behind until now. A fact that was so not good.

It made the hunter feel as if someone knew about their plans.

After finding another cruelly ripped open corpse, Dean decided that it was time to get some qualitative good sleep for a change. So they holed up in a farm-house. Castiel and Dean cleaned it from three walkers, while Sam was cursed to wait in the car for them until someone would come and take him inside.

They warded the house with saltlines and sigils.

Then they went to the car again to get food, water and _Sam_.

Dean let him use a bush before he took him inside, settling him on a couch in the room they were going to occupate for the night.

Sam stretched his limps from him, groaning, as he heard his joints crack before he leaned down on the couch.

There were already mattresses arranged in front of the fireplace. So someone must've used the place as shelter before.

Castiel made fire, while Dean opened two of the cans they brought with inside.

They put the cans into the fire, heating them up. Meanwhile they settled down on the couch with Sam.

They ate in silence, relishing the feeling of being able to stretch their legs out. - Most of all Sam (because his were damn long).

When they had eaten, they settled who would sleep where.

Castiel got the couch (much to Dean's frustration). So Sam and Dean had to spend the night on the mattresses. It was better than sleeping in the car anyway.

Dean shoved the both mattresses together and sprawled a blanket out over them. He then led Sam there and let him lie down. Dean settled in on his mattress too.

None of them spoke for a long time.

Castiel laid on the couch, one foot on the floor beside it, staring into nothingness. Dean stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows of the flames dance. Sam stared into the flames, feeling the warmth of the fire on his face.

"You think we're going to find the others in time?", Sam was the first one to ask what every one of them was thinking ever since they had found the last one. "Are we gonna find them dead like the others? - Why would the demons speed up with the killings? ... Do they know that someone else knows?"

"I don't know, Sam." Dean glanced into Sam's direction.

Castiel turned on his side, facing the fire-place. "Maybe they figured that someone knows about them too ... after they were not able to kill you."

"I know we need answers. - But not now." Dean threw in. "We can discuss that tomorrow. - Right now I don't wanna hear any about it, don't wanna _think_ about it. - Hell, I wanna have a night on a mattress without thinking about anything."

A deep sigh fell from Sam's lips. "You're right ..." His voice shook.

"You cold?" Dean frowned.

"Not that bad.", his voice broke. Sam tugged the blanket further over his shoulders and neck.

Dean took in the man's form curiously. He shook. Either he WAS cold or ... _crying_? He watched him some more. "You're cryin' aren't you?"

Castiel shifted on the couch, turning to the side, so that he had a better look at the two men on the mattress. He watched Sam shaking, watched Dean turning over on his side, lifting his hand in an attempt to lay it on the other man's shoulder, but pulled it back again.

The angel frowned, watching the hunter's hesitant behaviour. All the angel knew was, that humans hugged when someone cried (or at least they used to do so) – or talked ... or did other human-things they used to do when someone was sad.

But not Dean Winchester.

Dean sucked in a deep breath, the creases on his forehead deepening. _No_, Dean Winchester wasn't a chick. He wouldn't hug him, wouldn't cuddle him into sleep. He was a MAN, MEN didn't do such a thing (except with a girl of course or a kid, because they loved and needed that kind of stuff more than anything else. But there was no way he'd cuddle a guy into sleep, nor whisper to him what he'd whisper into a girl's or child's ear).

He wanted to tell him to get his shit together, and not to act like a girl. - But that would've been his father. John would've bitchslapped the man, and told him to keep it together, damn it. Because men didn't cry. Men didn't need the touchy-feely stuff ...

No, Dean Winchester wasn't his father, was he? He was _different_. He WANTED to be different from the way his father had been.

What made it even worse, was that he wasn't alone with Sam (like they were usually at night). Castiel was there, and he could tell the angel was watching them.

Dean glanced back over his shoulder, catching the angel's gaze, who tilted his head to the side having an expression on his face that said _do-something-winchester_.

The hunter glared at him for a long moment.

Again a _do-something-look_ from came back at him. This time with a pair of raised eyebrows.

With a huff Dean turned back around, staring at the younger man's back. He was still shaking.

No matter what effort it took Sam, he couldn't hide that he was crying. He sniffed and wiped the watery snot from his nose and into the side of the mattress.

As if that wasn't gross enough ...

The hunter squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, brazing himself for what he was going to do. As he opened them again, his circles were filled with determination.

With one big shift he was right behind Sam. The man froze. Sam felt the blanket move.

Dean tugged one of his arms under Sam's neck and wrapped the other one around the man's middle, tugging him closer until his back was flush against the hunter's chest. His movements mechanical, though his grip softened in an instant, as soon as he felt the man shaking.

Then he did something he wouldn't have done in a million years. "It's okay to cry, you know? - You don't have to hide." _Said no Winchester ever __**to a guy.**_ "Everyone cries from time to time." _Except Winchesters. _"Let it happen and you'll feel better." Because that was what Dean had wanted to do, when he was a kid and cried himself into oblivion after one of his father's training-sessions. When he hadn't been fast enough, or good enough. But he didn't. Dean Winchester didn't shed a single tear back then.

A smile ghosted over the angel's face, before he turned back around, facing the backrest of the couch.

"I cry like a girl ...", Sam sobbed.

Dean turned the man around in his arms, so that he was facing him. He laid his hand on Sam's jaw (just as he would've done with a girl) and smiled a little, hoping that Sam would see it somehow. The hunter looked deep into those unbelievable deep hazel-colored circles. For the first time ever. And man ... those were beautiful, so _special_.

He wiped a tear from the man's cheek with his thump. "Chicks are crying different. - They sound way more hysterical when they do. You're cryin' like a man." ... such a lie, but if it'd make Sam feel better it was worth it.

"Liar." Sam choked out with a half-lough half-sob.

Dean didn't say anything else, he laid his hand on the back of Sam's head and tugged it against his chest, burying his hand into soft thick hair, savouring the feeling of having a reason to do so.

Sam let himself being tugged closer. He threw an arm over the older man's side and closed his eyes. Sniffing the rest of the snot up wich dared to mess up the hunter's shirt.

Wherever the Winchester touched his skin, it tingled and warmed him. It felt amazing to be touched that way, without second thoughts. Without someone wanting something from him. Without Sam charging money for it.

* * *

The next morning dawned slowly.

Castiel was already up and around. Because angels – with or without cut-back grace – didn't need as much sleep as humans did. So he packed up their stuff silently, letting the both sleep a little longer.

A grin spread over his face whenever he glanced at the both. Dean sprawled out on his back. Sam's head resting on the hunter's chest, his hand on the man's belly. Dean had one arm wrapped around Sam's torso, his hand resting in between the man's shoulder blades.

Both men snoring silently, covered by blankets.

Maybe there was a little hope left for the hunter after all ...

Castiel carried their duffels outside and stored them in the trunk, looking back at the run-down house once, before he went back inside.

* * *

An hour later they were back on the road, on their way to Billings, Montana. Neither of them knew if the city was still standing, or if they'd have to check it over all by themselves.

As expected there WERE gates into the town. But they stood wide open. No guards, no signs of life ... THAT didn't look good at all. Though, the ritual had showed that one of the nephilims had to be there.

After it was as impossible as finding a needle in the hay, they holed up in one of the abandoned buildings.

Dean had brought the ingredients for the ritual with, in case that they'd need it again, if there'd be complications like this one.

Castiel and Dean instantly knew that something was wrong, when they saw Sam's face. It darkened, the corners of his lips curled downwards ...

"They're all gone ...", Sam muttered ..., "except ... _this one_." He put his finger on the outskirts of the woods of Idaho, close to Kalispell.

Dean frowned.  
"The only one?", Cas asked as if to be sure he understood him right.

Sam bit down on his lower lip and nodded. "There's only one left." He sounded sad and disappointed and somehow angry at once.

"Fine. - Then let's get there like yesterday.", Dean growled. "We'll take turns while driving, Cas."

The angel gave him a nod.

They took off as soon as they had gathered their stuff and Sam, heading northwest.

* * *

They made it in less than seven hours to Kalispell. Cas held the map in his hands, staring at it. Dean's gaze was glued on the road.

Kalispell was abandoned. Some of the roads weren't passable, so they decided to turn around and circuit the city. They made their way over side roads towards the woods, where Sam had pointed out that the last remaining nephilim would be.

There was in fact a house, that didn't look as abandoned as what they had seen so far. It looked like someone took care of it – at least the windows seemed clean. So they parked in front of it, waiting for Sam's okay, that there weren't any walkers around or inside.

The surroundings were clean. So seemed to be the house.

First Dean didn't want Sam to leave the car. But after Sam's begging and Castiel's effort to support Sam's arguments, the hunter hadn't a lot of a chance to do anything different.

As soon as they stepped on the porch, Sam froze in his tracks, whispering a silent "_No_."

"What is it?" Both his companions were immediately alert.

"It's ... different.", Sam whispered, his eyes narrowing. "There's no one inside ..."

Both man stared at him. "What's different? What do you mean?"

"It's not alive ... it's ... it's too ... _stable_. It doesn't move ..." Sam tilted his head to the side, his gaze moving towards the outskirts that were visible to his left a few hundred feet away from the house. "_She calls to me .._.", he breathed, laying one hand over his head and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Hey!", Dean called out and laid a hand on Sam's shoulder as he swayed.

Sam's eyes flew open again, completely unaware that he would've fallen backwards if it hadn't been for Dean.

"Sam?" The hunter didn't even try to hide his concern. "Sammy?"

"It's okay ..." Sam blinked a couple of times. "She's over there." He gazed at the outskirts of the woods.

"How'd you know?" Dean frowned, tightening his grip on Sam's shoulder once more as he swayed, not giving him a chance to fall. "Who's _she_?"

"I ... I don't know ..." he swallowed thickly, feeling himself drawn towards the voice. "She's ... she's showing me where she is ..."

Dean and Castiel shared a glance. The angel shouldered his riffle. The hunter cocked his handgun.

"I'd say we first check out the house.", Dean couldn't just leave it like it was. Maybe that all _was_ a trap. Maybe it _was_ a spell that tried to lure them into the woods, since all the others were dead. Maybe this one was dead too and the demons just wanted to erase the only one who was left of the nephilims.

"No." Sam barked out. "It's a trap. - We go in there and we're dead. Trust me." He didn't leave any doubt that he believed what he was saying.

"... Okay ..." Dean ran his tongue over his lower lip, thinking for a moment. "You see any walkers around here?"

Sam shook his head. "It's clean. - No walkers."

"Well then ..." Castiel nodded towards the woods. "Lets see who _SHE_ is."

Dean guided the younger man back down from the porch. Sam laid his hand on the hunter's shoulder, letting himself being guided. When they reached the woods, Dean hesitated for a moment.

"I'll show you ..." Sam squeezed the hunter's shoulder.

They made their way through the scrubs. Sam showed the hunter with tips of his fingers if they should go streight, left or right. None of them said a word as they did so, trying to be as silent as possible in case that it WAS a trap.

About an hour of stumbling in snail pace through the woods and dense undergrowth, they found it. A small cabin that didn't look a bit inhabited stood there on the small clearing. Windbells hung from the uppermost beam of the porch, made of colorful glass fragments and bones.

Sam stopped a couple of yards in front of the porch, sucking in a deep breath. The man had visibly paled along their march.

Dean stopped. So did Castiel, who walked a couple of feet behind them, covering their backs.

"You okay?", the hunter asked with a deep frown, taking a step back so that he was in one line with Sam and Castiel.

"Yeah ... it's just ..." The youngest among them stared at the small house. "I don't know ..."

Dean patted his shoulder. "Well then ... let's get this on the road."

Before they were even able to put a foot on the porch, the door to the house opened and a young woman stood there before them. Dressed in hippie-clothes, an embroidered bandeau on her head and pearls in her hair. She had blonde long hair and big bambi-like brown eyes. Full lips and a peach-like smooth face. She wore leather-sandals (what Dean recognized first, since his angel-friend prefered to wear them too these days).

"Took you pretty long to get here ...", she said and stepped aside, nodding into the cabin.

She simply seemed to ignore the weapons the men carried. She genuinely ignoring the angel and the hunter anyway. Her attention was directed at the tall guy with shaggy hair.

He seemed a little pale, his expression a little shocked. - But nothing she wouldn't be able to fix anyway.

So she just smiled and let the men in, shutting the door behind them again.

"Sit down ... somewhere ...", she mentioned towards a wasted couch in the middle of the room.

The three men sat down on it.

Dean instantly began to scan the room closely. Besides a whole lot of books and herbs that were hung out to dry ... and the wicked smell of them (contaminate the air), it seemed pretty much harmless. So he put his gun back into the holster.

Castiel followed his example and leaned the riffle against the armrest.

The woman sat down on a stack of pillows on the opposite side of the couch-table, still smiling, completely relaxed, obviously not a bit afraid of them.

"I'm Jo.", she introduced herself. "You're an angel." She looked at Castiel. "You're a human – probably a hunter." Jo gave Dean a brief look. "And you ..." Her face brightened as she looked at Sam. "It's been a while since I saw someone like us."

A smile ghosted over the younger man's lips, still staring at the bright mass of energy opposite of him. He wasn't sure what to think of her exactly. Somehow they looked like the same and though so different. The girl had extensions above her shoulders wich pretty much looked like Castiel's. Though she wore the same color as Sam did.

Sam cast his look down.

"What happened to your head?", she asked, her face darkening.

"Accident.", Dean answered calmly, before Sam would be in need to explain himself to the stranger. "He had an accident a couple of weeks ago."

Jo glanced curiously at the hunter and then back at the angel. Her attention focusing back on Sam again, obviously trying to figure out if it was the truth, or inflicted by the two of them.

"That's true?"

Sam looked up and gave her a short nod. "I got attacked by demons. - Then Dean came and saved me ...", he nodded towards his left, where Dean was sitting.

She nodded, sucking in her lower lip. "So you're practically blind?"

Sam shook his head. "Not at all. - I can see beings ... or ... what's inside of them."

A soft smile started to play on her lips. "You know ... I could try to fix this. **If** your ability to see isn't gone completely."

Dean frowned, suspicion crawling up in his guts, wiggling around his throat. "Fix this? How?"

Jo chuckled an and crossed her legs, pushing herself up from the pillows. "I can try to heal him. - I mean ... I'm not that perfect at it yet ... but I can try." She paused. "I see ... you didn't know what you're capable of, aren't you?"

Sam blinked confused. "Me?"

"Yeah, _you_, knucklehead." She chuckled and sniffed, glancing at the three of them with amusement. "Well ... I guess i will have to show you. - but first you should remem-" She broke off, her face going all dark again. She looked towards the door, something dangerous building up behind her eyes.

Sam's eyes widened as he saw the strands of her energy shifting and darkening. The extensions that were looking like those of Castiel began to grow.

"You led them to me ..." Her frown deepened.

Instantly the three men were high alert. Dean and Castiel jumped up, drawing their weapons in the same motion.

The house fell silent.

The windbells chimed.

"They're comin'.", she breathed ... "They're close."

A split moment later the floor beyond their feet erupted, and the door to the cabin burst open, wooden splitters flying through the air from the burst threshold and door.

_... to be continued_

* * *

A/N: First off: I honestly shouldn't be explaining myself. And though I do ... Because life turned me into what I am.

I had a few messages in my inbox after the last chapter.

My sincerest apologies for not being a professional writer. For english not being my mother's language. For obviously making too many mistakes in spelling and grammar. I am learning by doing, folks. I ever did. And for the record: I'm slightly dyslexic. I have troubles with the spelling. I can't memorize which one to use (for example jaw & yaw or jet & yet or life & live or save & safe). I have a pin-board on the wall with notes, telling me wich one's the right one ...

But I do love writing fanfics. Otherwise I wouldn't be here. And I figured my fics are somewhere in the midline between completely crap and pretty awesome ...

So ... First I thought I'm going to quit completely.

Then again ... the people who reviewed are very very loyal and nice ... so I can't let them hanging.

I will write this story. I will end it. And I don't think there will be another one published by BruisedBloodyBroken after that.

It's just not the way you tell someone he fucked up. There's always a way to say it nice and friendly if something's wrong with something.

I honestly DID believe in THAT.


	15. Chapter 15 Shelter

The End Of Days

Chapter 15 ~ Shelter

THEN:

_"You led them to me ..." Her frown deepened._

_Instantly the three men were high alert. Dean and Castiel jumped up, drawing their weapons in the same motion._

_The house fell silent._

_The windbells chimed._

_"They're comin'.", she breathed ... "They're close."_

_A split moment later the floor beyond their feet erupted, and the door to the cabin burst open, wooden splitters flying through the air from the burst door frame and door._

NOW:

In the very next moment, Jo got flung backwards into a wall with shelves. Castiel opened the fire at the intruders. What a pitty that the bullets just slowed them down, but were buying Dean enough time. Time to grip Sam by his jacket and throw him to the ground, taking his place before him, shielding him, as he pulled his demon-killing-knife, sliding his baretta back into the holster.

The woman got back on her feet with an angry growl, flinging the first one of the two men out of the way.

The second intruder threw himself at Dean, who stumbled backwards, tobbling over Sam and landed hard on the wooden floor on his back, one hand on the black-eyed man's throat. With his other hand, he tried to break free from the tight grip the demon had at his hand with wich he held the knife in a death-grip.

Sam got back on his feet, his gaze snapping towards the open door, as two other dark-red glowing intruders came through it. He might wasn't able to see his surroundings, but he sure as hell had memorized that there had to be a small table between him and the door (where he thought the demons must've came through).

Castiel was in front of Sam in the very next moment, holding a flask with holy water in his left hand and threw the liquid at the guy who amed for the blind man. Sure it wouldn't hold them off for long, but long enough to buy himself some time and pull his angel-sword from under his jacket.

"Exorcisamos Dei. Omnis imundus spiritus. Omnis satanica potestas-" The angel didn't come any further.

The demon lunged forward with his hand, wiping the angel from his feet with nothing more than a wink of his pointing-finger.

Sam felt himself being pulled forward on the hem of his shirt and lifted off the floor.

The female nephilim gripped the demon she was fighting against by its throat and suddenly it began to choke, the natural colors of its eyes turning into obsidian.

Dean was stills truggling to stab the damn black-eyed-bitch in it's heart (or somewhere else).

"NO!", Sam yelled, as somone grabbed him forcefully by his wrist and started to drag him over the wooden floor. He struggled against the thing's hold, tried to grab the doorframe to his left, as he felt himself pulled over the threshold violently, towards the outside.

To Sam's own amazement he truly got a hold of the doorframe, klinging to it with his fingers, as the demon tugged on his arm violently.

"Get off of me!", he cried out.

Somehow – Sam didn't even know how – he managed to get the demon out of balance for a moment and he freed himself from the strong grib. Stupidly he didn't watch out and stumbled over his own feet, landing on the floor.

Sam instantly started to crawl away from the dark-red siluette, as he felt a sharp pain in his lower back. And another one into his ribs. Damn it, why did everyone had to go for the ribs when they were kicking?

Sam curled up into himself, trying to protect his head and also his torso from further blows. But there came none. He just felt an iron grip on his ankle and again he got dragged over the wooden floor. He felt the low, but sharp and hard elevation of the threshold dragging along his back. Sam was still fighting to pull in a useful gulp of air, unable to think about anything else at the moment.

Dean saw from the corners of his eyes, as one of the demons gripped Sam by his ankle and started to drag him out of the house.

"Cas!", he yelled, finally managing to sink the riffle into the possessed man's flesh. The hunter didn't pay any attention to the rasping noise the guy made as he exhaled his last breath. Didn't look at him while he lit up slightly, as the demon in him died.

He kicked the body off of him and strode towards the front-door, as he got thrown back by an invisible force. All air got knocked out of his lungs AGAIN, as he landed on the coffetable, wich splittered and burst under the force of his impact.

"Son of a bitch.", the hunter hissed, gulping in a breath and getting back on his feet.

He glared at the bastard, who stood in his way.

SPN ~

Finally, after trying to get much needed oxygen back into his system, Sam managed to draw in a painful wheezing breath, clutching his right hand at the ribs on his left side. The steps down the porch had given him a few nice bumps to the head, not to mention the abrasions he probably had on his back, that burned like hell.

Right now, that his senses started to come back to him slowly, and the haze in his mind started to subside, he realized that the guy had let go of his ankle, and was now standing beside him. Staring down at Sam with a sly grin on his lips and pitch-black emotionless eyes.

"Don't." Sam was usually not someone who begged for his life. And he actually didn't intend to ... but in this case he thought he could make an exception.

What Sam didn't see was, that the demon didn't look like he wanted to get over with right then ...

Sam didn't want to find out what the guy'd do to him – not after he had heard Dean and Cas talking about the state of the other victims were in, when they have been found.

The demon bowed down over him, ripping the fabric of Sam's doubble-layer shirt appart with his hands.

"Oh, boy. - The things I'll do to you ...", the demon hissed amused, his grin forming into something dangerously cruel. "I'm gonna make you beg." He extended one hand towards Sam, holding him down with nothing more than his demonic powers. With the other hand he pulled a damn freaking sharp looking knife from his belt. "I usually like to take my time ... I'd love to see the life in your eyes fading away – slowly." He kneeled down, grazing with the tip of the knife ouver Sam's yaw. "I'd prefer somewhere more private though ..." The knife moved slower, over Sam's throat.

He swallowed hard, trying not to take too deep inhales, as the razorsharp tip dug into his skin faintly, leaving a thin welt of blood.

"What a pitty that i can't take you through your paces right here ... - we could've sooo much fun, whore." The demon flashed his unnaturally white teeth at Sam, licking his lower lip, as he watched Sam's expression and moved the knife lower.

"I would've loved to take you with me ... get you all to myself ..." The demon's eyes darkened. "... but sadly my boss wants you dead ... so ..." He pressed the tip of the knife a bit deeper into his skin, as he traced it down over his solar plexus and down to his right side, letting it rest there.

Sam hissed, as the sharp tip broke his skin.

"But that doesn't mean, that I can't have fun killin' you, slut." His evil grin whidened, as he forced the knife deeper into Sam's side, just half an inch at a time.

Sam cried out, as the knife moved further into his body.

The demon closed his eyes in bliss, as if the human's crie's were music to his ears. "Oh yeah ..."

"Please ... please." Tears welled up in Sam's eyes. "Just do it, damn it."

The demon's eyes opened again. "That'd be no fun, you know?" Another inch.

Another pained cry.

"I learned how to do JSUT THAT ... drawing it out, missing all the vital organs in a human's body ..." The demon bit his lower lip, yanking the knife back out, just to place it in the middle of Sam's chest, where his collarbones met. "... but causing so much pain ...", he trailed off, sounded as if he was getting arroused by what he was doing.

The blade digged through his skin, into Sam's flesh. "How I wished I could put you on the rack ..."

Sam's vision started to blur at its edges from the pain. Whide dots started to dance before his eyes, misting the dark-red figure that hovered above him.

"Hey! Bitch!", come from the porch of the house, and the demon's head snapped up with a surprised expression on his face. "Don't piss off a Winchester."

A silent hiss cut through the air, and the demon was clutching his chest, where the shaft of an arrow was standing out. In the very moment the demon cried out an agonized yell, smoke comming from the wound, as if it was burning him.

On the porch, Dean Winchester, lowered a crossbow and let it fall to the wooden floorboards, as he took off towards his charge and the demon.

The black-eyed monster rose slowly and staggered backwards, as it sucked in a wheezing breath.

Castiel appeared in the very moment ont he porch, running right after Dean. While the hunter fell to his knees beside Sam, the angel took the demon down with a punch in the face, and started to fumble in the pockets of his jeans for something.

Dean bowed down over him, resting a hand on Sam's chest. "Sam?"

He managed a moan. "Dean ..."

"Right here." The hunter panted, his look darting from the small but deep cut to the stabwound on the right side of the man's abdomen, wich bled furiously. "Right here, Sammy."

Sam whimpered, as the hunter pressed a piece of fabric on the wound.

"I know ... I know." The hunter's face screwed up in empathy. "Just ... just stay with me, okay?"

Sam gave him a short nod, as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"You think you can get up?" Dean's voice was soft, as he laid his free hand on Sam's cheek.

Sam sucked in his lower lip and gave the man a nod again. "I'll try ..."

Dean helped him sitting up, hearing a wheezing exhale from the younger man.

"Okay ... okay ... just take it slow, Sam." He let the man sink against his own chest and shoulder, just letting him breathe.

Sam burried his face in the crook of the hunter's neck, sucking in another shuddering breath, trying to hold the building up nausea at bay.

Dean held him close, carefully not to squeeze him too tight, even if he had the urge to do so. "Take it easy, Sam. - Just ... just ..." Dean's hand slid deeper, towards the man's lower back, feeling a damp wettness unter the fabric. He rose his hand slightly, so that he got a look at it. It was slightly red ...

The hunter cursed under his breath. They couldn't stay there long enough to patch themselves up. Neither they were able to drag Sam (without patching him up) for a more than eight hours ride back to the bunker.

"Is he okay?", a female voice called out and light footfalls were heard.

A moment later she was at Dean's side, chewing her split lower lip. "Oh no no no ..."

Dean felt Sam's skin getting clammy and damp, felt him shiver. He was going into shock ... "Sam ... Sam, we've to get you into the car. Have to find a place where we can hole up for a couple of hours ..." He exhaled slowly, glancing up at the woman.

She stared wide-eyed at the hunter. "I ... I think I know a place ...", she choked out. "Kalispell. - There're no .. no walkers ... and ... I don't know ..."

"Suppose you're comin' with?" Dean rubbed gently over Sam's upper bag between his shoulder-blades.

She nodded nervously. "Do I have another choice?"

"Not if you want to survive." Castiel grunted and pulled the demon to it's feet, the man's hands bound with engraved shackles, a gunnysack pulled over his head.

"You're intending to take the demon with?", Jo asked in disbelieve.

"We need to know WHY they want to kill you and all those who are like you.", Castiel said calmly, holding the demon by the chains that connected the cuffs.

"Sammy?", Dean whispered, his lips so close to the younger man's ears. "Sam, you gotta stay with us a little bit longer, okay? - Just until we've patched you up."

"Tired.", he muttered unter his breath.

"I know, kiddo ... trust me, I know ..."

Dean braced the man with one hand against himself with the open palm between his shoulderblades, while he started to check Sam's head for goose eggs with his other one. He carefully made his way down the back of his neck.

"You feel like something's broken?", he asked, aserting the man's state slowly.

Sam gasped, as Dean brushed over the fabric covering his ribs. "No ... no, I don't think so ..."

"Okay." Dean took another moment, bracing himself.

That was going to hurt. Definitely going to hurt.  
"Hold onto me.", Dean whispered. It wasn't an order, more like a plea to follow his suggestion.

And Sam did, he fisted Dean's jacket in his hands and held onto him, letting himself being pulled to his feet.

Searing pain lanced through Sam's whole body, letting him sway and his knees buckle.

"You're doin' fine, kiddo.", Dean muttered under his breath, trying to hold the man on his feet, taking over most of his weight anyway.

"He's not going to make it through the woods like this ... - He can barely stand.", Jo blurted out. "And we've to get out of here ... they'll send others ... they know where we are ..."

"Slow it down." Dean said calmly without looking at her. "We'll do that. - Sam's gonna make it to the car. We're all gonna make it to the car, find a place to hole up ..." He sighed, wrapping his arm around Sam's lower back and guiding his hand around his shoulder. "Got it?"

Sam nodded.

Jo sucked in his lower lip, biting down on it – hard. "I'm gonna lead us back."

"Castiel's gonna be our rear cover." He looked at his angel-friend and he nodded. Then he looked at Jo. "You're gonna lead us." He pulled the demon-killing-knife from his boot and handed it to the woman.

She took it, as if she was used to hold a weapon like this in her hands.

The three of them shared a glance, before they got on the way.

SPN ~

It took them longer as Dean had thought, to get back to the cabin and their car. When they finally reached the impala, Dean had a beyond relieved expression on his face, as they broke through the outskirts.

Jo staggered towards the car, pale and completely exhausted, leaning against the hood in an attempt to hold onto something so she wouldn't crumble to the floor right then.

Dean backed the completely exhausted man up against the passenger's side of the car, fumbling for his car-keys.

Castiel followed short behind, dragging the demon along with him. Arriving there, the angel popped the trunk open and got their duffels out, storing the demon there instead. He then helped Dean to get the younger man on the backseat, climbing in there with him, while Dean and Jo took the front-seats.

She led them safety into Kalispell, picking one of the houses on the outskirts. Jo stayed with Sam in the car, trying to keep him conscious, while the both men secured the house with salt-lines and wards.

When they were done, they got the duffles inside and then went for Jo and Sam. Both men were rather carrying than leading him into the house, settling him down on one of the beds on the upper floor.

Jo stood in the doorframe and watched, as Castiel helped his hunter-friend to get the clothes off of the wounded man. Dean – ever so gently – sat him up, let him lean against him, while Castiel peeled the jacket and shirts off of him, taking delicate care not to touch the abrations on his back too much.

Dean held him up, as long as Castiel needed to clean the abrasions, putting antibiotic ointment and bandages on it. Sam's head rested on the hunter's shoulder for the entire time, his eyes squeezed shut tightly.

Dean drew small circles into the skin between the younger man's shoulder-blades with his thump, trying to get him through this without painkillers.

"You still with me?", he whispered silently.

"Yeah.", Sam croaked out, blowing out short puffs of warm air through his nose.

Dean and Castiel shared a short glance.

"This will be uncomfortable.", the angel said, as he ran his fingers over Sam's ribcage on the left and right, where already darkening bruises were forming.

Sam hissed at the light pressure and Dean held him a little bit closer, burying one of his hands in the younger man's hair. The hunter licked over his lower lip, thrusting his jaw forward ... _yeah it hurt._ It'd hurt even more by tomorrow.

"You know I would like to heal him-", the angel started, looking ruefull at his friend.

"I know – you can't.", he stopped him from explaining himself. Because he knew. He knew that Castiel could still feel the weakness that had resultet of doing his mind-melting-thing and saving Sam's life. The angel had been out cold for two days streight after he had healed the gashes on Sam's lower arms.

"But ... when I am done, I can put him to sleep?", he asked, cocking his head to the side and Dean nodded his approval.

Dean then let Sam sink slowly backwards into the dirty mattress and dusty pillow, moving all the way with him down, until he was settled. He eyed the cut and the stab-wound. Saw the faint red line the knife had left behind on his neck. The hunter took in the bruises on Sam's ribcage and the goose egg that was forming on his forehead.

Sam's eyes were on half-mast and unfocused. He was sweaty and pale ... The hunter bit his lower lip as he sat back up beside him, taking the towel off of the wound on his side.

"He's going to get an infection, Dean. - It's not clean ..." Castiel grabbed for the antiseptic fluid. "It won't work with just cleaning it out."

The hunter KNEW that. "We'll stitch it up to stop the bleeding. - When we're back home we'll reopen it and clean it as we do now." The only plan he actually had. "Painkillers and Antibiotics are in my duffel."

Sam's lower lip quivered, his eyes teared up.

Dean grabbed the younger man's hand and squeezed it gently. "Cas's gonna sew you up. - You just hold on and squeeze my hand if it gets too much, okay?" He tried to smile reassuring. And he failed.

Sam nodded frantically, short shallow breaths coming from his mouth, as he tried to get enough oxygen into his lungs. Laying flat on his back wasn't exactly comfortable at the moment and drove spikes of sharp stabbing pain throug his right side.

The youngest man's gaze fell on the girl that stood in the floor, just to see her sliding down the doorframe on wich she leaned.

"Jo.", he muttered silently. "You've to help Jo."

Both men turned towards her, just when her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed sideways.

"I got this.", Dean laid his hand gently on Sam's cheek, as he spoke to his angel-friend. "Get her in one of the other beds. - Check her over. - I'll take care of Sam."

Castiel went to get the saturation-kit from the duffel next to him and tossed it on the bed beside the wounded man. He then started off towards the unconscious girl in the threshold.

Dean opened the kit and laid everything out. He then poured a giant ammount of the antiseptic fluid over the nephilim's stomach, cleaning him carefully. He then desinfected the needle he was going to use.

Dean looked anywhere but Sam's dazed eyes. "I would be ready."

Sam gave a short nod, shooting him a trustful look.

"You need to hold still.", was all that the hunter said, before he started to sink the needle into Sam's skin.

Sam moaned through grittet teeth, fisting the sheets beneath him.

"Six stitches.", the hunter said silently, "Then we're done. I'll patch it up and you can go and get some rest."

SPN ~

Castiel picked up the human form on the floor in his arms as if she weighted nothing and carried her into the room that was right beside the one Dean was patching up Sam. He carefully lowered her on the bed, that must've been the one of a young girl. All pink and with unicorn-stickers. Dolls and other fluffy stuff lay around on the dirty floor.

The angel laid two fingertips on her neck, feeling for her pulse. High likely she was just exhausted. Killing three demons and saving his and Dean's butts from being ripped apart wasn't exactly what the both men had expected.

The girl was packing some serious power ...

SPN ~

Dean pulled one of the blankets from their car over Sam, who was shivering violently. He then went to his duffel and got two pill-bottles from there, including a bottle of water. When he came back to the bed, Sam had passed out. Either from pain or eshaustion - or probably both.

"Hey. - No sleeping." Dean lid his hand on Sam's cheek again, brushing with his thump over the man's cheekbone.

As if on command, the man's eyes opened lazily, obviously trying to focus on the hunter.

Dean smiled, cupping the back of the younger man's head in his hand and lifting it a little bit. It felt heavy in his hand, as if Sam wasn't even able to support the weight on his own.

"Before you pass out on me, you've to take these ..." He popped the pills into Sam's mouth and set the bottle to his lips, letting him drink. "Good.", he sat the bottle aside. "You cold?"

Sam shook his head weakly. "Hurts.", he muttered and hissed as he flexed the muscles in his stomach, trying to sit up.

"Nah. - Stay down." Dean let the man's head sink back onto the pillow. "We're stayin' here until tomorrow."

Sam shook his head again, his eyes about to roll back into his skull. "No ... we can't ..." He sucked in a shuddering breath. "We're too close ... to close, Dean. - They'll find us.", his voice trailled off.

"Even if they do. - The house is warded. Jo did _something_ ... she said it's safe here. They won't track you or her down."

Again, Sam shook his head. "We need to go ..." A weak attempt to prop himself up on his elbows failed miserably.

"You ain't goin' anywhere, kiddo." Dean pulled another blanket over him. "You can relax. - Rest. Try to sleep ..."

Sam swallowed hard, slowly but surely loosing his fight against concsiousness.

Dean settled in beside the younger man, not caring that he probably lay "too close" to him. Not caring, that it might looked suspicious, if someone would see the both of them like that. The Winchester rested his hand on Sam's chest, feeling the steady but shallow breaths the younger man took. Feeling the cool sweaty skin againt his warm palm.

Sam was struggling to stay awake ... Dean could tell. So he did the only thing he knew that could probably help: He drew gentle circles into Sam's tender skin with his thump. He inched closer, so that his lips were close to the younger man's ear, whispering a soft "_let go_" and "_we're safe_".

He had known that it hadn't been a good idea to take a blind guy with them – all benefits left beside. Now he was probably worse off as he had been before. A stab-wound was never something to take on easily. These days – without propper and imediate treatment – you could easily die.

Gladly they had a stock of medications, syringes and in the medical unit of the bunker. - Always stocked up and never out of date, since Castiel took delicate care of it to restock and sort out the items there.

Though, it were about eight hours to their home. A drive in a car, on a road with more than a couple of pot-holes, crouched into the backseat. It wasn't about surviving the eight hours. It was more about what would come afterwards. Eight hours in wich the stab-wound high likely would get infected and irritated. Eight hours without proper antibiotics ...

SPN ~

Dean woke Sam every two hours and let him drink. The hunter didn't dare to let himself drift off or fall alseep. He kept himself awake, sharing his body-warmth with the half-naked wounded man, whispering soothing things into his ear, whenever he started to get agitated.

The morning was already dawning, when Castiel entered the room with sleep-ruffled hair. He neither seemed to have a good night's rest.

"How's the girl?", Dean croaked out as he glanced over his shoulder towards the door, where his angel-friend stood.

"She's gonna be okay. - Woke up a couple of times, said it's just exhaustion, that she never before had to take on three demons at ones.", Castiel explained silently, stealing a glance at the other man on the bed. "Sam?"

Dean sighed and rubbed over his face. "'s startin' a fever ..."

The corners of Castiel's lips turned down. "Had to be expected." He blew out a breath. "I got the car ready. - Checked on the demon. - Got us the rest of the cans."

Dean groaned in respond, as his stomach made a doubble-take, of mentioning food. "What'd we got?"

"Peaches. Lentils with bacon and dark roux." The angel sniffed and shook his head and yawned. "Jo is up and around already. - She made a fire, heating up the lentils." He glanced at Sam again. "I will get something for the both of you."

"Lentils?" Dean moved his jaw carefully. A dark livid bruise had formed durning the night. And hell, it hurt worse now than it had yesterday.

He wouldn't be able to bite anything that was hard to chew in the next couple of days. And Sam'd need something he was able to swallow easily.

With a short nod, the angel disappeared.

The hunter let himself sink back onto the pillow, blinking a couple of times. Istead of calling his name, Dean laid his hand on Sam's cheek, brushing tenderly over it.

"Wake up, Sammy.", he wispered with untellable tenderness in his voice. "C'mon, boy."

The younger man groaned and instantly his face screwed up in deep lines of pain. Besides the searing stabs that drove through his entire body, there was a burning fire in his right side, making it close to unable to breathe. Though he felt a soft touch on his cheek, a tender brush over his cheekbone.

"That's it, Sammy. - Come on. Wake up.", he whispered.

But Sam didn't want to. He felt more comfortable where he was righ tnow, as out there, where the pain would just increase ... on the other hand: Out there was the hunter. Someone who cared for him, who was calling for him. Who WANTED him to be awake.

Sam's eyes fluttered open, but stayed on half-mast. The hunter's appearance was a foggy faint appearance in the darkness surrounding him.

"There you go, kiddo." Dean smiled briefly. "You gotta eat and drink something."

Sam gave him a short nod.

"We'll have to get goin' later. - We've to get you back to the bunker ...", Dean's face darknened of what he knew that laid before them.

Sam nodded again, though he hadn't really understood what the hunter was telling him. He just wanted the man to know that he was there, with him.

He heard him talk, felt his touch. Sam let himself being led, focusing on the voice, on the touch, wich seemed to miracally hold the pain aside.

"Open up." Dean frowned. The man was looking at him – but hell, he didn't seem to understand what he was saying. "Open up, Sammy."

Again, the man just stared at him. Somewhere between his ears and his head the words seemed to get lost.

Dean popped the two pills into his mouth anyway and sat a fresh bottle of water on his lips, hoping that Sam would understand what he wanted him to do. And he obviously did. Sam took a couple of zips, swallowing the pills in order to get the water down.

"That's fine." The hunter smiled again. "Cas brought us something warm to eat. - You don't even have to bite it a lot."

Sam nodded again. "Still hurts.", he muttered faintly.

"It's gonna get better, you'll see. - As soon as the pills are kickin' in, you're gonna feel real good." Dean stirred with a spoon in the over-warm tin in his hands. "Lets see ..." He took a spoon full of the grey-brown goop, chewed it a little and then swallowed. ... Not as bad as he had thought, but he already had tested better things than that.

"Well ... not as good as Kevin's steak, but sure as hell better than Cas' vegetable-mash." The hunter chuckled.

Sam's face lit up at the sound of it, a ghost of a smile playing over his face.

"I heard THAT! Maybe I am running short on angel-juice, but I am still a celestial being!" Castiel's voice echoed up the stairs.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, Cas! You're the Ozzy Ozborn of celestial beings!", he yelled back.

"I don't understand that reference!", Castiel sing-sang.

Another chuckle and Dean turned back towards Sam. "You'd damn well would understand what I mean, huh? If you wouldn't be that out of it ...", his voice trailed off and his smile faded slowly.

The hunter dove the spoon back into the lentils and scooped up some of it.

That was when he realized that Sam wouldn't be able to eat while he lay flat on his back. Dean looked around, searching the room for pillows. He then thought of the other rooms he had checked on last afternoon with Castiel.

No, they wouldn't get enough pillows, comforters and stuff together to prop Sam up properly. So Dean did the only thing that actually seemed to be the only possible way to make this as comfortable as possible.

He put the can aside and rubbed his hands together.

"Okaaaay ..." Dean licked his lips. "That's gonna get unpleasant, Sammy." He sat back against the headboard, close to the younger man.

"I'll get behind you, okay? - So you'll be able to sit up.", Dean waited for an answer, for a sign that he understood . Frustrated, but not truly awating that Sam would respond to him in his current state.

Another moment of waiting, and Dean got awkwardly behind the younger man, who grunted and winced, as he got pulled back against Dean's torso.

"_Oh god .. oh god ... oh god ... hurts_, D'n. It hurts ..." He gasped anh wheezed, making a choked sound deep in his throat.

"Shshshsh. It's okay ... it's okay, we're done. We're done, see?" Dean let his hand rest over Sam's chest a little bit longer.

Sam's head lolled back into the crook of Dean's neck. "_Please_ ..."

Dean waited until the whipers subsided, before he reached for the lentils again. "There we go. - You ready?"

Sam winced, lifting his head a little.

"You gotta help me with this, since I don't see where I put the spoon, kiddo." Somehow the thought was amusing, but Dean wouldn't lough. It was too serious.

They emptied the can togehter, rather slow. Sam opened his mouth every time he felt the rim of the spoon against his lips, and chewed a little before he swallowed. When they were done, Dean let Sam have some more water.

His head lolled back against the hunter's shoulder and he closed his eyes. The pain started to subside, though he started to become tired all over again. Even his body felt a little bit cooler than before, and he felt the comfortable warmth of Dean behind him.

Sam would've wanted to stay like this forever ... he wasn't alone anymore. Not like he used before, and maybe it was just his feverish haze of mind, but being close to the hunter made him feel different. All warm and tingly and comfortable.

And maybe ... just maybe fate would show some mercy with him and would let him have a piece of pie once in his life too ...

_... to be continued_

**BACON? :P pretty please ^^ we're pretty short before a giant KABOOOOM in this story ;) **


	16. Chapter 16 Healing Sammy

_**FIRST OFF: **_

_**THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR GREAT REVIEWS :D **_

_**^^ I MADE UP AN EXTRA LONG CHAPTER FOR ALL OF YOU, FOLKS ^^**_

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 16 ~ Healing Sammy**_

THEN:

_His head lolled back against the hunter's shoulder and he closed his eyes. The pain started to subside, though he started to become tired all over again. Even his body felt a little bit cooler than before, and he felt the comfortable warmth of Dean behind him._

_Sam would've wanted to stay like this forever ... he wasn't alone anymore. Not like he used before, and maybe it was just his feverish haze of mind, but being close to the hunter made him feel different. All warm and tingly and comfortable._

_And maybe ... just maybe fate would show some mercy with him and would let him have a piece of pie once in his life too ..._

NOW:

Instead of eight hours it took them ten to get back to the bunker. Half an hour more until Sam was settled in his bed, attached to an I.V with strong antibiotics and painkillers. Another fifteen, until the medication started to work and Sam stopped to whimper and moan in agony. Another twenty minutes until he settled down enough and his eyelids slid shut.

That was actually the first time, Dean Winchester was able to breathe through since they had left Kalispell. The first time, the tension started to leave Dean Winchester's body and let him settle down beside Sam. The first time he allowed himself to close his eyes and drift off into a half-fitfull sleep himself.

Letting his hand rest over the younger man one's.

* * *

Castiel entered silently.

It was time for the next round of antibiotics and painkillers. And since Dean hadn't shown up, he assumed that the hunter must have fallen asleep.

Though he hadn't awaited to find Dean in the other man's room. _On the bed._ **Holding his hand.**

At the picture before him, he had to grin. It was nice to see his hunter-friend like that. All relaxed and fast asleep. Caring about something else than the next job, the next monster to hunt down, in his life.

Because deep down both of them knew that it wasn't about the lives he saved anymore. It was all about hunting the creature. Seeing the life drain from its form.

A part of Castiel was shocked, by how cold-blooded the Winchester was able to be. How much he had changed and become what he never wanted.

Then again ... Sam was kind of a job – but he also wasn't. Because of the way the hunter looked at Sam lately. The way he tried to make it right for him, and how he attempted to make Sam feel better.

It was a different Dean Winchester. A loving Dean Winchester. A Dean he hadn't seen in years. Hell, he wasn't even sure if his friend had ever acted like this.

Sure he knew him. He knew that he cared, even when he didn't show it. But with Sam? With him it was different. Because the Winchester _tried_ to ... He even showed it from time to time.

_So yes._ Castiel was actually grinning at the picture before him. Because this was _special_.

* * *

When Dean first woke up, it was because of his bladder that cried for relief. So he HAD TO get up. The second time, he had to leave Sam's side was, because his belly rebelled ridiculously about not getting something to eat. So he HAD TO go into the kitchen.

Where he found Kevin, Jo and Castiel sitting by the table as they were chatting. He gave them a nod and a grumpy groan, as he headed to the fridge and opened it.

"How's Sam?" Kevin cocked both eyebrows.

"Out for the count.", he answered growling and took one of the milk-bottles out. "Fever's still up. - Gonna need to reopen the stitches. The wound doesn't look good."

Jo watched the hunter closely, her eyebrows narrowing, as she tugged a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'd like to help-"

"But you can't. - You're still pale around your schnoz, lady." Dean turned around and uncapped the bottle. "Sam's gonna pull through. - It's just taking time." Yeah, the Winchester was sure of it. Because there was no other option.

Then again ... he had to keep his head clear. This wasn't just about Sam. - He had to remind himself of that. Because he was about to lose the overview. To lose his sight of the bigger picture. Feelings he didn't want to admit to himself were bubbling to the surface already ...

He had to get himself back on track. He wasn't good for anyone if he'd let himself fall in love. YES, fall in love. Because that was what was about to happen, if he'd let himself get any closer to the man.

If they'd lose Sam, they still would have another nephilim at their side. If Jo would try to heal Sam and it'd go south in her condition they would've nothing. NOTHING. Not even the chance to figure out WHY the demons had done that. Why it had been so important to kill those beings.

What brought him to the fact that they still had a demon in their trunk. "Demon?"

"Chained up, bound, gagged and sealed in the basement.", Kevin said proudly.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the boy. "Wow. - great. All on ya' own?"

Kevin nodded, looking pridefully at the hunter.

The hunter's gaze swept towards the woman, eyed her for a moment and then he looked at Castiel, giving him THE LOOK.

"What happens next?", the angel asked with a deep frown.

Dean walked over at the table and sat down on the bench, his gaze fixing Jo. "I'd like to know what you were going to say BEFORE we got interrupted."

She leaned back, her brown eyes glistening with knowledge. "I wanted to say, that Sam has to remember. - Because he obviously doesn't. Many didn't ... until I showed them." She paused, her gaze turning sad. "It's that thing ... ya' know? When your kid is different from others. When they know things they shouldn't know ... when they see things that shouldn't be there ... they give them pills or worse: they get locked away in psychiatric wards where they do god knows what to the poor children ..." Again she paused and sucked in a deep breath, her eyes cast down. "But they can't fight it, you know? It's just there. They can't push it away, or deny that there isn't anything."

"Sam was in a psychiatric ward ... he got electro-shocks ...", Dean muttered, his eyes narrowing. He could still feel Sam's memory. Could feel the jolts cursing through his body as it had been his own. He looked at the woman's talisman and back up into her face.

Her eyes darkened further. "I'd like to forget what I truly am too, if I'd be treated like that."

Dean nodded.

Kevin stared ahead, a blank expression on his face.

"Cas let Sam show him his memories ... To see what could possibly connect all the dead people ...", the hunter started to explain. "... and ... he showed me too. - So ... you're telling me, that there could be sequences missing?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Very important ones. - And further: Like most of _us_, he doesn't remember what happened before. It's ... difficult to explain though. I CAN remember what happened before my life even started. I CAN remember what it was like before ... WHY I am what I am. - So should Sam. It'd save him from his nightmares." She sniffed. "The injury to his head isn't that old. Maybe I can fix it in the process. Make him see again ...", her voice trailed off. "But I can't do it now ... It'd take a lot out of him AND me. - It's unpleasant and might hurt. It could possibly weaken him further."

Dean nodded again. Hope that Sam'd be able to see again, flared up inside him. Sam'd see again and he could just imagine how amazingly happy the man would be. Conjuring those pretty dimples on his face and letting his eyes lite up. It was a truly beautiful thought ...

A dumbfounded unconscious grin formed on the hunter's lips, as he stared into nothingness.

Castiel had his gaze fixed at the hunter curiously.

Kevin eyed his friend suspiciously.

And Jo did nothing but grin with him.

Because she KNEW. She had known from the first moment he had seen the hunter. Had seen the nephilim. Had seen like their energies were attracting each other.

But telling the hunter? Nope. She wouldn't. Not yet.

* * *

Dean had went back to Sam after emptying the bottle of milk in less than fifteen minutes. This time he settled into a chair, despite the need of being close to _him_. So he sat there and watched Sam – carefully. Until he started to stir and began to get restless.

Fresh beats of sweat formed on Sam's skin, the bedding already damp. Then his eyes fluttered open – for the first time in more than a day.

"Someone decided to wake up ...", Dean muttered hoarsely and sat up straighter in the chair.

Sam muttered something incoherent and he started to struggle off the covers.

Dean got on his feet instantly, looming over him, laying his hand on Sam's cheek, trying to get to recognise the hunter.

"What do you need, Sam?" He saw something in his orbs he didn't like. A need. An urge ... _Something_. "Tell me and I'll get it for you."

"Up.", Sam muttered under his breath. "Need to ... let me ..."

Dean pushed him down into the mattress (not that it would've taken a lot of effort anyway), as the younger man intended to move again. "No. - You can't. Not yet. You gotta stay in bed."

Again, Sam muttered something he couldn't understand.

"_Sammy_. No." Dean's voice was gently, concerned. "Tell me what you need."

He let his head sink back into the pillows. His eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"Pee ... I need to go pee ..." He was panting from the effort it took to talk. "Bathroom."

Dean's eyes widened. - And he cursed himself. He wouldn't be able to get the giant guy on his own in there. Not to mention that he'd probably pass out anyway from sitting upright in his condition.

"Hold on a bit longer, okay?" The hunter had an _idea_ ... though he wasn't sure if it was a good one.

Sam gave him a short nod, trying to focus on the bright gleaming blurry light above him, that was suddenly gone. And when it appeared again, the covers were pulled back from him completely.

"I can't get you into the bathroom. - But I got you a bottle ... and ..." This was _ridiculous_. He sighed, brazed himself. "Figured that's an appropriate alternative to take care of ya' _business_."

Sam frowned. Even in his fever-dazed mind he knew what the hunter wanted to tell him.

Dean took Sam's hand in his and laid the plastic-bottle into his hand. With his free hand, the younger man tugged on the waistband of his boxers, but gave up again as he felt his limbs growing heavier all over again. His grip on the bottle eased and it fell from his hand.

Sam shook his head.

Dean frowned deeper.

"_Bathroom_." Sam panted.

Dean shook his head. No. "For fuck's sake ...", he cursed and sniffed, pacing forth and back a couple of steps. He stopped beside the bed again, rubbing over his forehead and eyes. "Fine. - I'll help ya'. - Just ... don't pee on my hands or something ..."

Sam shook his head weakly. "No." He took an inhale as deep as possible. "_Bathroom_."

The hunter would do a damn thing about the bathroom. The man's pulse was rabid. His breathing labored. He'd collapse and pass out and it would've helped no one ... it'd just make things worse if he'd fall and rip open his stitches ...

Dena grabbed the bottle and laid it on the other side of the bed, close to Sam's hip. "If you think that I think that this' funny. - You're so wrong, kiddo." He ran his tongue over his lips. "Work with me and we'll get this awkward situation over within less than five minutes."

Sam shook his head.

"Sure you will." The hunter's voice dropped lower, his words close to an order. He tugged on the waistband of Sam's boxers, just to get them petted away with long fingers. "Get your hands out of the way, or I'm gonna leave you here, let you pee yourself. - So – what's it gonna be?" Dean tried to stay calm, but in fact he was annoyed. What proofed the sound of his voice.

"'Kay." Sam's eyes fluttered shut.

Without a further word, the hunter tugged down the waistband, pulling the boxers down to Sam's knees. He glanced at the hooker's face, seeing his already flushed cheeks flushing a bit redder in embarrassment. Then he stared – for a moment too long – at the soft dark pubic hair that surrounded Sam's (impressive looking) manhood.

"Huh ..." Usually he was unpacking cocks because of a rather different reason ...

Sam muttered something under his breath. The only words that were able to be understood were "_damn it_" and "_so god help me_".

Well, this was something Dean Winchester didn't do every day ... "You can ... you know ... do what you gotta do." ... and it sure as hell was the first time in Dean Winchester's life that he blushed like a girl.

* * *

After their embarrassing encounter, the younger man passed out again – the bottle not even removed yet. So Dean pulled the boxers back up as good as he could, but not without staring for another few moments at the man's strong thighs, and well – the things just a doc or your girlfriend should see anyway.

He then pulled the blankets back up and turned him to the side a little bit, stuffing a pillow under the left side of his back, so that he wouldn't lie on the abrasions on his back the whole time.

* * *

When the hunter attached the next saline drip with Sam's medication, the younger man seemed to breathe deeper and easer. He didn't sweat anymore. Nor did he seem as restless as he had been before.

Sam seemed to do remarkably better. So yes. Dean Winchester felt the urge to back off, getting some distance between himself and Sam again.

So that they wouldn't get _too_ close.

* * *

Days passed and the better Sam did, the less time the hunter spent around him. Sure, he helped him to get cleaned up and into the bathroom. Helped him to get dressed. But other than that he tried to stay away from the young man as much and as far as possible.

No wonder, the clearer Sam got, that he started to wonder. - He thought he could remember, that Dean had been around him. He had FELT him around him. His touches, his presence.

And now? Now he was just GONE. He haven't seen him in days now. At least it felt like days. Instead of the hunter, it was Castiel who checked on him more often, brought him food and water into the room, since Sam shouldn't be up and around that much yet.

It was one of these evenings.

Sam lay in his bed.

Exhausted from brushing his teeth and showering.

The stitches in his side looked fine anyway. So after about a week of NO SHOWERS at all and just sponge-baths in bed or at the sink, Sam had felt gross (to say the least).

He hadn't gone back to bed much earlier as Castiel showed up, with a tray in his hands, bringing dinner and something to drink. Placing the tray on the bedside-table he eyed the young man's pensive expression for a moment.

"Can I ask you something, Cas?" It was unexpected and though .. .the angel had sensed that the Sam had something going on in his mind.

"Of course." The angel smiled, sensing what it was about. - Sometimes he didn't understand Dean. First it was hard to get Dean away from the nephilim's side, and now he wouldn't even check on him. Just ask how he was doing and if he was better.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting under the covers, so that his hands were resting on his stomach. "Is Dean okay?"

Castiel was stuttered by the extend of concern in Sam's voice and on his face. "Yes. - He sure is fine."

Sam sniffed and shifted again, obviously searching for words. "Did he go out?"

The angel frowned. He didn't like to get involved in whatever was going on between the two of them. Dean had made pretty clear that it was none of his concern why he wouldn't – at least – enter Sam's room once while he was awake.

"No. He didn't." It was short, though there was more than just that in his words. Another meaning hidden behind them.

"Castiel?" Sam sucked in his lower lip, his look now glued at the angel's face. "Did he say something?"

The angel blew out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I can assure you, that Dean is fine. - He is wound up in research and talking to Jo. He can be very assertive when it comes to a job. Dean tries to find out why these demons are after you and her."

_... Sure._ The hunter didn't need him anymore. He had _another_ nephilim. A powerful one. At least more powerful as the self-pitying blind whore he was. Just from the few minutes he had a chance to learn about Jo, he could tell that she would be able to tell the hunter more than he could.

_So yeah. _- That was it, wasn't it?

He had fooled himself. He had thought that Dean really cared about him. - For quite some time now.

Sam wasn't needed anymore.

And it _hurt_. Somewhere deep down in his heart it hurt like a bitch. The realization that he HAD BEEN _JUST_ a job. That he hadn't been more than that ... _a tool_ ... something to use.

"Oh ...", was all Sam could say right then.

The hurt and the stinging tears in the young man's eyes didn't go by on the angel unnoticed. He actually felt sorry (what meant a lot, since Angels weren't used to feel sorry at all).

"Should I take a message for him?" Castiel honestly didn't know how to react. He had never been in a similar situation. He knew his hunter-friend ever since he had pulled him from hell. Though ... somehow ... Sam was now some kind of friend too, _wasn't he_?

"No, Cas." Sam smiled sadly. "Thanks." His lips quivered. _- Was about time the angel left anyway._ He didn't know what he had expected, nor what he had thought ...

Sam was _just_ a job ... after all.

The angel nodded to himself. Well noticing the man's distress. Though he also knew that this wasn't something HE could fix. - That one was all on the Winchester.

"Can I get you something else?" Castiel asked casually.

The man on the bed shook his head, still trying to hold the tears back, still trying not to cry in front of the other man. "I'm fine ..." His voice broke.

"If you need something ... just call, okay?", he asked.

Sam nodded. - Not much longer and he'd _break_.

So Castiel left. Letting the door to Sam's room ajar. He went back into the kitchen where the other's already had started to eat dinner. Castiel settled down beside Kevin on the bench, filling his plate with potato mash and spinach and boiled pork.

He didn't give report on Sam's well-being like usual. His face was blank, his thoughts gone far away at that point. He didn't even noticed Dean staring at him questioning, waiting for him to spill.

The air suddenly thick and heavy.

"So?", the hunter spoke up. His voice casual and calm, stuffing another piece of meat into his mouth.

Castiel's head snapped up after he got nudged into his side by the prophet. "Yeah?"

"He's doin' okay?" Dean watched his angel-friend the entire time intently.

"No." Simple and short, without hesitation.

The hunter frowned, his eyes narrowing, taking in the angel's hard lined face. He hadn't seen him often like that. Not since back then.

Jo's and Kevin's gaze darted in between the two men.

"Might as well explain?" Worry crossed the hunter's face, the words heavy with concern on their edges, even if he tried to let it sound cool.

"Check on him by yourself. I am no longer your errand boy, Dean." It was a little snappy, sure. But nothing the hunter couldn't take. In fact Castiel did want to tell him right there and then what was up. But he wouldn't. Dean had to realize by himself.

Their gazes met over the table. Hard and cold, as if they were fighting a battle with just their looks.

No one could tell who of the both won in the end. They just continued to eat and drink until their plates were empty, the tension not leaving the small group until then.

Castiel busied himself at the sink. Jo joined him.

Kevin went back to the angel-tablet in hope to find something out about nephilims, though the chances were small.

Dean backed off into his room, spying into Sam's room on his way there since the door stood ajar. He saw the untouched tray with food on the nightstand and a curled up figure under the covers. The hunter wouldn't have liked to do anything more, than to go in there, sitting down on the edge of the bed, laying his hand on the man's cheek and bow down. Kissing him awake. Telling him what he felt and why it was so difficult for him ...

Yeah, long last the dreams. Because he didn't. Rather he'd been struck by lightning and dropped dead.

The hunter reminded himself again what this would mean ..._ to him_. To Sam. To all of them.

He looked in his mind for plausible reasons NOT to give in.

* * *

_Another couple of days passed by ... _

... and things didn't change. Not even Castiel's little verbal winks with the fence post worked. Either Dean honestly didn't realize ... or he simply didn't want to know.

Either way it didn't do any good at all.

Sam did better anyway. - Or he was a damn good actor.

He found his way into the library and the kitchen all by himself now. He didn't need help with getting his business done, nor to get dressed. Sam refused to take on any help anyway.

He was calm and listened when other's talked. He barely joined any conversation. He mostly talked to Jo when they were on their own. She told him how it'd work when she would try to heal him and make him remember. She filled him in on what he had to expect.

She told him, that the memories wouldn't come back to him as soon as he woke up. Maybe it'd last. Maybe they would be just there and he'd remember. OR, they'd come in flashbacks, guided by seizures and headaches and/or fever.

Jo told him about how it had been for her. That she ALWAYS knew. That no one had to help her with that. But that she met a lot of people who suffered from nightmares or hallucinations or even both. And that she helped them. She opened the blockades in their minds, so that the memories could come back to them.

She told him that it was different for everyone. Some were able to handle the flood of informations pretty good. Others – especially those who had been forced to FORGET – had a longer way of recovery before them.

And as it was Sam's luck, he suspected that he would be one of the latter ones. _Fantastic_.

So Sam took the information, stored it in his mind and nodded every time when she asked Sam if he understood.

Because there was no way around anyway, was it? He wanted to know. He wanted the nightmares to end ...

Dean still avoided contact with Sam.

So it came ahead to the day, when it was time ... Time for Sam to remember again. Time for Jo to try to make him SEE again. He had told her how much he missed to see things like he was used to. Seeing faces, trees, the grass and the colors not just his mind let him remember.

Castiel sat in the black leather-recliner. Kevin stood behind him, both elbows braced on the backrest, head supported by his hands.

Jo kneeled beside Sam, who lay flat on his back on the couch. She chanted silently ahead, trying to get Sam to relax completely for what she was going to do.

Dean stood far off the event, leaning against one of the pillars in between the main-hall and the library. Watching out of the shadows, as the light dimmed and Jo's chanting stopped.

The hunter's face was unreadable. He was too far away with his thoughts. His face blank with hard lines. Green eyes staring coldly towards the couch, not letting on any flicker of emotion that might flared up in the depths of his soul.

When it started, Dean flinched at the sudden gasp that fell from Sam's mouth, breaking the tense silence that filled the bunker up into the furthest corner. Jo had her hand on Sam's cheek, rocking forth and back a bit.

It didn't last longer than a couple of seconds until the lights began to flicker and the temperature dropped sensibly. What seemed like minutes later, all stopped. The temperature seemed to come back to normal, the flickering lights went off for a brief moment and back on.

Jo sat back on her heels, heavily panting, while Sam remained as if he was fast asleep.

* * *

Castiel stayed by Sam's side, watching over him, even when Jo assured him that it was completely normal and that his mind had to wrap around the fact that there was more about him than what he already knew.

Dean had disappeared from the post, sitting now in a leather-chair not far away from the couch, in the corner of the library. Staring with a blank expression at the sleeping man.

Sam's fingers twitched every now and then. Other than that he remained motionless.

Kevin took Jo into her room. BIG YES. Jo got her own room in the bunker. She officially was now a member of the small unrelated family.

And the hunter needed her for his job. For getting to the bottom of all this. - _Besides_ ... she couldn't go anywhere else. Nowhere she'd be as safe as in the bunker. _Besides_ ... somehow he liked her. Kind of like the little sister he never had. What actually made him smile inwards.

It took Sam five hours to find his way back to the surface of consciousness. First it was the warmth he felt. A soft blanket had been tugged around him to keep him warm after he had started to shiver. Then he SAW the light. The light that shone through his eyelids.

His eyes fluttered open slowly, and he SAW. First it was a blur and hard to tell WHAT he actually saw. But after a few blinks and deep breaths, he SAW colours.

Beige.

Brown.

_The surface above him. _

Sam blinked again ... and tried to remember. But he didn't. He couldn't. _Not yet. _And he sighed.

Jo had told him that it'd take some time until it all would come back to him. Even the things he had forgotten over the therapy in the psychiatric ward.

But he could SEE. He SAW shelves of books to his right, as he faced away from the backrest of the couch. He SAW the different colored covers, a ladder. A small coffee-table beside him. A glass of water standing on it, the light of the bulbs reflecting in it and making it sparkle.

A smile tugged on the corners of his lips, wich widened even further the more he took in of his surroundings.

He could SEE.

But his smile faded slowly, as his look fell on a green-eyed man, sitting on the armrest of the couch towards his feet.

Though the hunter smiled softly at him, wearing a gentle expression on his face. "I figure it worked?", he asked hoarsely.

Sam nodded. "It did." His smile brightening again.

In the very moment, something between the both of them happened, as they locked their gazes. Hazel-green eyes staring into bright emerald-green ones and vice versa. A moment that should've sealed their bond, as their energies reached out for each another.

None of the both of them needed to say anything. It felt like seeing each other's soul for the very _first_ time. For the _last_ time.

And just because Dean Winchester had to mess everything up and because he couldn't let his heart reach out to the other man, he did something really stupid.

"You peed yourself. - Better go and take a shower, dude." He pushed himself up with a mischievous smirk on his lips and walked away_ ... just like that. _

Sam's smile faded – FAST – as he started to feel it. His cheeks flushed deep red at the realization. And he had never been that fast in a bathroom before in his life ...

* * *

From that on, things seemed to get easier. For all of them. Mostly for Sam. Who remained mostly silent and watched and listened. Though he smiled more these days. His face wasn't that pale anymore and it was close to look like life had returned into his eyes. The same spark of life Dean had last seen when he had picked the man up from the strip.

It made the hunter easier around his heart to know,that Sam seemed to do better.

Despite of that ... they still walked around each other on eggshells. Dean looked at Sam when Sam wasn't looking. And Sam looked at Dean when Dean wasn't looking. Though everyone knew that something was up about the both of them ... it was nearly palpable when the both of them were in the same room.

But no one left a word about it.

* * *

If it would just have stayed that way ... If Sam would've never done, what he dared to do ... Though ... he had needed to know. Really NEEDED to know. Because sometimes it felt like Dean was right there with him – even over the distance of a couple of yards or in another room. He felt the hunter watch him, when the hunter thought Sam wouldn't notice. He felt Dean's looks all over him ever so often, when he chuckled or laughed ...

And when their eyes met – what actually happened more often ever since Sam was able to see again – it was like two wild forces met each other, letting the world around them erupt and quake ...

So yes. Sam needed to know. If he might was wrong ... if he was imagining things. So it took him all the courage he had, to do what he did that god damn afternoon ...

And ever since he wished he _hadn't_.

* * *

Dean had made a makeshift cassette-player, since he didn't have to be anywhere soon. _Since_ he wouldn't spend time on the road anytime close. And he needed his music. Like: NEEDED.

Because all that old stuff from the men of letters wasn't exactly how he rolled, and he became sick of the same five LP s playing on and off all day.

So yes. He needed REAL MUSIC. Something with more drums, more guitars, more _everything_.

And to everyone's surprise: It had worked.

So there was AC/DC blaring through the loud-speakers, filling the main-hall and the rooms connected to it with Back in Black.

Just after Jo and Kevin had started to shake, twist and head-bang to the music, Castiel joined them. Soon after Dean was game too.

Just Sam sat there, on the couch. Watching. Silently. Tipping to the beat of the music with the left tip of his foot onto the floor. Gentle enough so he wouldn't make any sound (though no one would've heard it above the loud playing music anyway).

So he sat there and watched. With bliss. Enjoying that the others enjoyed themselves.

It was like the tension that laid ever since over the small group of people was fading away and vanishing. The tension that had built up ever since they had gotten back to the bunker with a badly injured Sam.

_They_ needed this. DEAN needed this.

Sam watched him intently. The way the hunter swung his hips, the denim stretching over strong thighs and his muscular buttocks.

It wasn't like he was just staring at the hunter. NO. No way. He also watched the others. Though Dean had his attention the most ...

Until ... until Jo hopped up and down in front of him. Bright brown eyes beaming down at Sam, reaching for his hand and grabbing it. She pulled Sam to his feet, with as good as no resistance. And then he was standing there. Blushing.

He didn't want to dance. He had never been a good dancer. That was why Hank wouldn't keep him in the club.

He smiled shyly at Jo as she tugged on the hem of his shirt – _challenging_.

The group slowed eventually, curious looks darting in their direction.

Dean's attention was drawn to the giant post, standing right in front of Jo. Not moving, while she tried to animate him, swaying her hips, laying her tiny hands on his. Something deep inside Dean started to work, to boil ... His face darkened slightly, before it lit up again as nothing had happened.

He walked over to the two of them, taking charge behind Sam, and laid HIS hands on the younger man's hips.

Sam froze for a moment.

"It's not that difficult, Sam.", Dean reassured him, slightly out of breath. "Just let it out ..."

A sudden heat crept through his body, right from Dean's hands, making him all feel tingly. What reminded him of what a chick he was ... in fact. Because just chicks would feel that way, wouldn't they? All nervous and shaky when the guy they had the hots for, touched them, or simply smiled or winked at them.

Jo grinned from ear to ear, baking off, back into the middle of the room, jumping with her blonde hair gone wild.

Yeah ... she knew her stuff. But though she wouldn't have seen coming what lied ahead them. If she would've known ... she wouldn't have teased Dean like this. She would've left Sam on the couch, watching them. Letting his dreamy gaze sweeping over the hunter.

So Dean laid his hands on the younger man's hips, closing up further, until he was just an inch away from making body-contact.

At the moment he didn't really care what he was doing. Was it the adrenaline ... or Sam's bright smile? The way he blushed? Or his behaviour in general?

Well, Dean had no clue at all. He also didn't want to get to the bottom of this.

It should be fun, shouldn't it? Just a little _fun_ ...

Dean Winchester, the king of denial ... he'd soon learn how fucked up this all should get. - _Very soon. _

* * *

After what seemed like eternity, Dean Winchester could gladly announce that he had gotten the handsome, but obviously prude hooker who wouldn't be that easy to get around if it wasn't for charge, to relax and enjoy himself a little.

And how that guy could move ... a pity he didn't dance more often like that. Though, they didn't dance like _together_ **together**. Dean just stole hungry glances at Sam from time to time, watching his hips swing from side to side, the way his whole body moved ... and Dean Winchester had a badly hurting bulge just from watching, straining against the zipper of his jeans. - Gladly his shirt was a bit longer – though ...

And as the Winchester he was, he sucked it up.

Then again ... he couldn't withstand ... and since Dean was just a couple of feet away from him, he managed to get over there. Right in front of Sam.

Their gazes met, never letting go of one another. There wasn't a lot of touching, nor did they really come near each other. The only thing that could make someone think that there was SOMETHING between the two of them, where their looks.

Despite Dean Winchester's reputation, there was so much love and warmth, so much adoration in his emerald-green eyes. Everything he couldn't say out loud, was spilling from his eyes. And Sam smiled at him. Tiny little dimples forming on the corners of his eyes as he looked down shyly.

They soon settled down, slouched and slumped on every available soft surface. Panting. Sweating. Exhausted.

They watched a movie that evening. One of the old camera rolls Castiel had found in the basement.

Everyone hung around – completely spent, but fully contented and satisfied with themselves – simply burned out.

Dean had taken his place beside Sam, since no one seemed to want to take the place there.

So they watched the movie. Sam's first movie since he had his eyesight back. Dean couldn't help but smirk at the blissful expression on the younger man's face.

Sam felt himself being watched, seeing the hunter staring at him from the corner of his eyes. Hell, he would've lied if he said he'd remember one damn thing later about the movie.

When the movie was done, they all said their good-nights. - Just Sam and Dean stayed back, packing away the movie projector into the box. Both worked without talking. Both avoided each other's looks.

Though ... Sam still sensed his chance. - He liked the hunter. He liked him very damn much – to say the least. Though he didn't understand him sometimes ... and then somehow he understood him anyway. All people were weird somehow these days, weren't they?

When they were done, the both of them walked back to the bedroom-corridor. Side by side. Enough distance between Sam and Dean so that they wouldn't touch, but close enough to do so if one of them would have wanted.

Then, when they reached their bedroom-doors, both looked up. Dean's green eyes bright and glistening, a small smirk forming on his lips.

That was all that it took for Sam. He closed up with one giant step, backed the hunter up against the wall and brushed with his lips over Dean's pouty tender cushions tentatively.

The hunter froze, eyes widening.

Sam sealed his lips over Dean's.

And THAT was all it took for Dean Winchester. He pulled his arms between Sam and himself and pushed him back – HARD. Harder as he had intended to.

Had he even intended to push him away?

He saw Sam stumble backwards, not able to hold his weight on both his feet as he hadn't awaited the hard shove against his chest. He saw him fall back (like in slow motion) and landing on his butt.

Dean just stood there a moment longer – shellshocked.

Sam landed hard, hadn't awaited the hunter to react like THAT. A blow to the yaw YES. A blow into his stomach? GIANT YES.

So he didn't know why it hurt that much more, as he got shoved away ... Maybe it wasn't physical ... maybe it was more emotionally. Because he had thought that this had been exactly what the hunter would've wanted too.

_And obviously ..._

... _obviously_ Sam had been right. Dean had wanted that tho happen. He just couldn't wrap his mind around it. He couldn't understand himself. Sorrow and denial made a short high-noon special on the market-place of his heart. As much to say: _Denial won. _

"What the hell?" Dean yelled, anger flaring up in his ever so liquid-green eyes. "What the hell you think you're doin'?" ... okay there had been no reason to freak out like that, right? Because after all ... that's been what he internally had wanted for quite some time now.

That was when denial stroke again. Wouldn't allow him to feel that way, let him feel what it felt like to be loved and to love someone back. Because that meant PAIN and LOSS and DESPAIR. So pushing Sam away seemed to be so much easier at that moment than anything else.

"'m sorry ..." Sam muttered, his cheeks red with embarrassment. "I thought ... Me ... and you ..."

"What do you thought? Huh?" Nah, he couldn't stop the words spilling from his mouth right then, "That Dean Winchester could possibly fall in love with SOMETHING like YOU?" ... _hooker_ ... what the hunter truly wanted to say was WHORE.

And as if "_pushing-away_" wasn't bad enough, he chuckled, a snarky snarl following.

He looked down with a disgusted expression on his face at the guy who sat there, bracing himself up from the floor on his hands, head bowed, dark hair hanging down as if to hide his face.

The one thing Dean Winchester didn't realize at this moment ... that this had been it. That he wouldn't get a chance to set things right ... that _Sam_ sure as hell wouldn't be there anymore.

Sam promised himself. Right then. There was nothing holding him back anymore. - He'd find shelter somewhere else. Would find a job in HIS line of business again. And if the damn demons would get to him?

He honestly didn't care about that. _Not a little bit._

He'd take care of himself. Like he had done before. Would pay because of HIS stupidity. Because the hunter was right. What had he thought? ... Getting carried away like THAT wasn't Sam. Never had been Sam.

This was beyond awkward, embarrassing and it hurt. It felt like a stab through his heart. How could he have been that wrong? About the looks? About the hunter's gestures?

_Hell yes_ ... he had fucked this up. But now? Now he knew. He KNEW.

* * *

It was the very next morning. Dean hadn't slept a lot. Actually he had slept nothing at all. So he had gotten up at about five in the morning, in an attempt to cross the corridor to Sam's bedroom. To _apologize_. To tell him that whatever made Sam kiss the hunter had been okay. But he didn't feel the same way and that this didn't give him the right for what he had said to him earlier.

And of course ... it wasn't true ... it was quite the opposite of it.

Anyway ... now he sat there ... in the kitchen. No lights on. _Thinking_. **Thinking hard.**

Shuffling of bare feet over tiles tore him from his thoughts. Obviously Dean wasn't the only one who couldn't find any sleep.

Jo appeared in the door to the kitchen and she blinked at the hunter. "Hey there."

"Hey." His voice was hoarse.

Jo cocked both eyebrows and stopped for a moment, before she rounded the table and slid down on the bench on the opposite side of Dean. She locked her gaze with the hunter's and laid her hand over his.

"You did quite a thing on Sam back there.", she began and rose a hand to silence the hunter as he wanted to speak up. "I do understand you. - I honestly do. But ... THAT?" Her eyes rolled in the sockets. "You shouldn't be afraid of falling in love." She rose a finger to silence the man again. "Don't interrupt me. - He likes you. He REALLY does, trust me. I can see that. And I DO KNOW that you like him – a whole lotta more than you'd admit to anyone. Even to yourself." She paused with a deep sigh. "But that? Back there? That was just nasty and foul and pretty mean."

Dean kept quiet. - He didn't know what to say anyway ... She WAS IN FACT kind of right.

"I can't.", he muttered and focused his gaze onto the wooden table. "I'm not made for this. - It's dangerous ... It's ... I don't know ..."  
"Just because being a hunter, and because having lost friends and family doesn't mean that you don't deserve to be happy. It doesn't mean that you don't deserve a little love for yourself. - And if there's just the tiniest sparkle inside of you, that the thing with you and Sam might could work ... what's the problem then? If it doesn't work, it doesn't. No damage done. - And IF it works ... Then you can be happy to have gotten such a handsome and nice guy like him."

A small smile tugged on the hunter's lips, before it vanished again under shadows of doubt.

"That's why I don't even want to start ... SOMETHING ... it's ... people _die_. All the time. - I can't lose anyone of them too. I can't." He tried to explain himself. "How can I even fix this?"

Jo sighed deeply and leaned back a little, still holding the hunter's hand. "You can apologize and hope that he's going to forgive you ... eventually." She smiled a little now. Pretty much reassuring. "Maybe he won't forgive you just yet ... but he likes you – VERY MUCH. So maybe you're lucky ..." She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

Dean gave her a short nod and pulled his hands away under her's. "I'll think about it." His smile was grateful but sad. "Maybe you're right."

"I'm never wrong, that's a thought to start with, Winchester." She grinned and tugged the blanket that hung loosely around her shoulders closer. "Might as well catch some hours sleep ... you look like crap."

Dean chuckled. A chuckle that came deep down from his heart.

He followed the nephilim's advice and headed to bed. But he didn't sleep. He thought. Intently. He thought about what the girl who, was actually younger than him, had said to him.

How much _wiser_ she seemed to be ... That was just not fair, was it?

* * *

Dean got up like usual.

He took a shower, put on fresh clothes and brazed himself. First thing before everything else was to go and get Sam. Was to fall on his knees before him (okay that might was a bit of an exaggerated reaction) and beg for forgiveness.

Because whatever he had thought before ... Jo was right. - Neither would he be able to hold back his feelings (wich bubbled under the surface of his skin for way too long) for the man. He had lied to himself about it, had hurt Sam. Had been an ass ... all over again.

But he'd make it right. He'd settle things right fucking now.

_If Dean Winchester just knew ... _

So he crossed the couple of feet towards Sam's room and knocked on the door without hesitation.

No response.

"Sam?", his voice was hoarse, the sound of it pleading. "You in there?"

The door stood slightly ajar, but not wide enough to have a good look inside.

Something in Dean's guts formed. A pitch-black pit. Tiny and barely noticable at the moment ... but still.

He nudged the door open further and lurked inside. His features instantly changed into something way more serious. His eyes narrowed on the made bed, something small laying on its end.

Instantly the tiny pit formed into something bigger, more threatening, more COLDER. The hunter took a sharp inhale as he walked towards the bed, spotting a jar and a piece of paper, folded in its middle.

Dean glanced around the room.

It was ... _clean_. All tidied up.

The pictured from Sam's parents on the nightstand _gone_ ...

All of his personal meager things he had left ... _gone_.

Dean didn't need to have a look into the bathroom to tell that it had to be pretty the same picture. All cleaned up and nice.

The hole in his guts grew even bigger as he lunged hesitantly for the piece of paper. He felt himself sway for a moment as he opened it up, letting himself sink back at the mattress into a sitting position. He grabbed for the jar and eyed its contents for a moment.

A few silver-coins, a medallion, a few necklaces and a watch were in there ... not much. But for someone who owned nothing it was a whole lot of something in there.

The hunter paled slightly, as his gaze fell back onto the piece of paper. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"Can't be ...", he muttered to himself with a huff, as he started to read.

_Dear friends,_

_it was me an honor to meet every single one of you. I am so very thankful for your hospitality. I am thankful for some many things you did for me ... You did more than I could've asked for. _

_I got a warm bed, I got food. Hell you guys even helped me with everything beyond and above that ... and I truly, honestly can't come up with anything to make it even again._

_But ... as it is ... for me it's time to go. I'm a drifter. _

_I left some of my things in a jar. It's all I have to give – mainly to Dean because I took one of his silver-knives ... just in case you know. _

_Besides: I have to admit, that I will take some cans, a couple of water bottles and a jar with peanut butter with me. - I hope that my payment covers it up ... for the rest of what I have cost you ... I've nothing to give except my thanks._

_I just can say Thank You ... _

_I surely miss y'all. _

_And Dean? - I'm sorry. For everything. _

_But I'm sure with Jo things will turn out a whole lot better. She'll be able to help you with your case even better as I could've ever done. _

_I am just what I am. _

_Sam_

**... to be continued**

* * *

**BACON?**


	17. Chapter 17 Gone

**A/N: ****All the mistakes are mine. MINE ALONE.**

_**I do hope that you still enjoy the story ... I am about to wrap up the end of this story.  
**_

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 17 ~ Gone**_

He was gone ...

... Sam was gone.

_The hunter swallowed around the lump in his throat. His face even paler as before. His eyes getting watery with every moment longer he stared at the letter. _

_Dean blinked. Fisting the piece of paper in his hand. Then he rose slowly from Sam's bed and walked over to the small cupboard on the opposite side of it, placing the jar there. He rested his hand for a moment loner on the item, before he was able to let go of it. _

_He blinked again and straightened up, his eyes going from sick of concern to full hunter-track-the-bitch-down-mode. He stuffed the letter into his jeans-pocket and strode back into his own room, grabbing his jacket, the holster and the duffel-bag beside the door. _

_Dean woke Castiel and Kevin, barking orders at them. _

_The prophet should check out how many reserves Sam had taken with him, while the both of them would search the area close to the bunker. _

_The hunter was driven by fear. Fear that the demons could get a hold of Sam again, that they could succeed this time. He was afraid, that Sam'd run into walkers ... or any other monster out there. HE was SCARED. _

_Scared that he wouldn't see Sam again ... that he wouldn't have the chance to apologize. TO tell him what he really felt. He wanted – HE NEEDED – to know, that Sam was okay._

_Dean and Cas split up. Sure they found tracks in the woods that surrounded the bunker ... Those tracks (definitely shoe-prints of Sam's boots) ended twenty miles away from the bunker at an asphalted road abruptly. _

_The hunter cursed violently. Completely exhausted, he fell to his knees, fisting his short hair in both hands. All of a sudden there wasn't enough air to breathe. His lungs burned, his head throbbed. Sam could be dead by now – and it was all his fault. All his own stupid fault. _

_He had pushed away the one person he had wanted to be close to him – AGAIN. He had hurt him with his words, had shoved him away. He had treated him like he was NOTHING. _

_... And that? NOW? That was what he got in return. Sam had left. Had vanished ... _

_The cold, pitch-black pit in his stomach got even bigger, eating him up ever so slowly the more time passed. _

_He had to hold it together. Had to focus. _

_Sam couldn't be far. He definitely hadn't taken one of the vehicles from the garage. So he was hiking. IF someone had passed by on the road and had taken Sam with him ... huh ... then he could be everywhere by now. _

_If they wanted or not ... they needed to get back to the bunker. _

_It was already late evening when the two of them finally came back. Kevin informed the hunter, that Sam hadn't taken a lot from their storage. A maximum of four cans of ravioli, and five water-bottles. The boy couldn't look the hunter in the eyes. Hell, his voice was thin and wrecked with worry. _

_That was it. - Sam was suicidal. He wouldn't stand a week with the amount of supplies he had taken with. _

_Dean rubbed over his face with a huff. He hadn't thought that he could've possibly fuck something up worse ... indeed he was able to ... _

_Jo sniffed, staring daggers at the hunter. _

_Castiel poured himself a mug of coffee, as he noticed that Jo and Kevin had made some (despite the fact that it wasn't sunday ...). He figured he deserved it. _

_"Cas?"_

_The angel turned around towards his hunter-friend. "He can't be that far."_

_"He's at least twelve hours ahead, Cas." Dean sniffed and checked his duffel. "He needs to hole up somewhere. Get some rest after his walk through the woods." He paused. Thinking. "He's gonna head for the city closest from here ... from the street where we lost his tracks ... it's about ten miles to Sleepy Plains. Everything else's gonna be too far for him. - I'll check the village out. If he ain't there but I'll find tracks of him, I'll move on." He merely spoke to himself at that point. Planning, plotting, tactically maneuvering. _

_"You're tired.", Jo spoke up matter-of-factly. _

_"Who cares?" He stared daggers at her, making her flinch and frown. "He's out there because of me. - I pushed him away ... You said it yourself: When the memories start to come back to him, it could get pretty bad. - Sam could be out there somewhere, unconscious, freezing to death." Dean huffed and shook his head in denial, not wanting to think about THAT. "He could pass out any time ..."_

_He cleared his throat. "I'm not giving up until I've him back here – with us."_

**THAT had been four months ago now ... **

Four months ... Four months of despair and grief and heartache. Four months of blaming himself, that Sam might be dead. Might have suffered a painful end, just because he couldn't get his shit together. Because he wasn't able to man up to his own feelings.

_The first month_ went by in no-time. Checking out abandoned villages and the bigger cities in the neighborhood. Asking hunter-friends to keep their eyes open for a young man in his thirties, 6.4" with brown shaggy hair and hazel-green eyes. Probably carrying nothing but a bag-pack with him.

_Two months_ after Sam had taken off, Dean lost his faith in finding or seeing him ever again. He drank – NO, he gulped down every drop of alcohol he got his hands on. Pathetic tries to wash away the guilt and pain ...

The case mostly forgotten ... Just a faint existence on the edges of his mind.

_Four months later_ ... and a painful fight with Castiel a couple of days ago, the hunter sat in the kitchen, in the middle of the night. Sunken in thoughts. Dean turned the glass of booze before him, staring at the brown liquid.

A fight that had been long overdue anyway. The cleft between the both of them had built up slowly until THIS DAY. Dean had been grumpy and angry and had bitched around about ... _everything_. So the angel had taken him aside. Had pushed him up against a wall and beaten the living shit out of him.

Just to regret what he had done an hour later ... and healed Dean's swollen and bruised face short after. Though it hadn't taken away the pain. CAS hadn't taken away the pain.

It still hurt. The things Castiel said to him, the names he called him ... tilting him as an ungrateful bastard who didn't realize heaven when he'd be right in front of him.

And Dean hadn't been able to deny anything of it. Because the angel had been right.

Dean had taken off many times after one of his hunter-friends had reported the sight of a man, whose description would've fit on Sam.

But nothing. Non of them had been HIM.

And with every time he headed out, the hope of finally finding Sam faded further. Until all hope was gone. Until he didn't even DARE to waste a thought at the younger man anymore. He just shoved them away, locking them down in a dark cold pit that was buried deep down in his insides.

* * *

_Another month passed. _

And Dean thought he was finally forgetting ... until the one morning, when the radio device in the library turned on.

Kevin sat right beside it, brooding over the angel-tablet. His head snapped up as he heard a familiar voice came from the small loud-speaker beside him.

"We're here. Over.", he instinctively grabbed the microphone and pressed the small white button on the side of it.

There were a whole lot of interferences, but they could pretty good understand each other. It was better than nothing.

"_Dean's around too? Over._", the man on the other line asked – obviously bothered and hesitant.

Kevin frowned and sniffed. "Nope, Jim. - What's up? Over." He rubbed over his mouth, as he heard the pastor sigh deeply.

_"It's about the description about the guy he was looking for a couple of months ago ... "_ Still hesitant, he even sounded worried. _"Over."_

The prophet's face fell, the corners of her lips went down slightly. "Wait. - I go and get Dean. Over." He didn't wanted to be the one to mention Sam's name in Dean's presence. Every time someone did, the hunter's face changed, turning into an expression of soulful agony.

That was when footfalls were heard from the distance, and a wrecked looking Dean Winchester appeared in the doorway. "Who's that?", a gruff voice was heard from behind.

"Pastor Jim's callin' ... wants to talk to you ... about ... 'bout ... you know ..." No he wouldn't say the name out loud. "He -"

The very next moment, Dean was by his side, shoving Kevin from his seat and taking his place eagerly in front of the radio device, grabbing the microphone hard. "Jim?", he asked, his voice sounded like a mix of hope and doubt, of pain and bliss. "Over."

There was still hope, wasn't it?

"_Hey there, buddy. - I ... have some informations about a sighting._" He still sounded hesitant. "_This time it could be the real thing, Dean. Over._"

The hunter's heart sank. He had gone after so many dead-ends ... it actually hurt. "Spill it. I'm all ears. Over."

"_Okay. I get you the coordinates._" A short pause. "_32°13′18″N 110°55′35″W. Over._"

Dean frowned. "Somewhere close to Mexico? Over."

"_Correct. Tucson._" A sigh. "_Look. - It's streight across the US and I just have the vague description of the man ..Nothing specific. It's been now a week before I got the information. Over._"

"It's enough for me to check on it, Jim." Dean's voice was warm and soft, as if he truly had hope that this one could be HIM. "Any special places where he had been spotted? Over."

"P_eople are holing u pin the center of the city. - heard they ain't lettin' in everyone, kid. ... It's some sort of save haven for hunters, dealers and traders as far as I know. Worse than hell. - Many people vanished there ... Over._"

Dean chuckled and shook his head slightly with a huff, before he pressed the white button on the side of the microphone. "Something I don't know yet? Over."

"_Don't be a smartass, boy. - Just take care of yourself when you get there._" The man warned. "_Sleep with a gun under your pillow, and a knife in your hand. Over._"

"Sure thing, Jim." Dean smiled. Actually smiled. "You take care too, old man. Over."

"_I'll hear from you when you're back? Over._"

"You can bet on it. Over."

"_Dean? ... I really hope it's him ... this time ... Over._"

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. "Me too. Over." His voice barely above a whisper, the microphone holding in his hand even tighter.

And then the line went dead.

* * *

It did take Dean Winchester less than half an hour to get ready for a 26 hours drive. When he went outside, he was utter surprised to find Castiel already waiting for him in the rear seat with his duffel in the back.

"You didn't expect do go alone, did you?" A strained smile played on the angel's face. The last time he had let him go alone, he came back bruised and bloodied. Had taken down two werewolves in the upper north, as the guy he had sought hadn't been the one he longed for.

A small smile tugged on the hunter's lips. - Maybe ... just maybe fate was more friendly with him this time ... and just maybe this would be Sam. HIS Sam.

Dean Winchester didn't know, back then, how right he was. He expected close to everything ... but not THAT.

Or maybe he did, and was just disappointed that he had been right.

* * *

The hunter and Castiel had searched the town now for a week. They had asked some of the local traders and club-owners about a certain hazel-green-eyed, tall guy. But nothing so far.

Maybe it had just been another non-starter at all.

Though Dean was out there, wanting to check on another couple of streets and another club. Their last try, before they'd head back to the bunker.

It was the last thing Dean wanted to ... and then again ... it was their last chance to find Sam in this fucked up place.

Old habits ... Since the hunter hadn't found Sam around as a trader or ... whatever else was out there on the streets ... he suspected that he had gone back to his old line of business. Selling himself.

It sure wasn't like Dean wanted to find him like that. But then again ... Better finding him as a prostitute than dead, or hurt ...

Everything seemed like that one would be a burst too. - Though there was still a flicker of hope in Dean's ever so green circles when Castiel looked at him.

* * *

Castiel and Dean had just left one of the clubs in the very center of the town. There was no strip to pick up hookers – too dangerous for the merchandise anyway. That was why they had those "_clubs_" in Tucson. Where the hookers were safe, waiting in their rooms for being booked.

These people mostly worked here, earning their food and the roof over their head like that. They had water and electricity, a bed and a washing facility. And they were safe. Safer than out there on the streets.

Tuscon was a dirty city. Past in the day, prostitutes disappeared without a trace sometimes. What actually cost the pimps a lot. So they started to occupy buildings for their business, where their hookers were able to do their job and where safe while they did so.

The both of them rounded the corner, walking down the alley, as rustling and shuffling let them stop in their tracks.

"Wait!", someone called behind them – panitng. "Hey, guys! Wait!"

Dean and Castiel turned around to watch a short guy emerging from where they just came from. A slender man who had watched them in the club before.

Stopping in front of them, he clutched with his hand on his chest and panted heavily. Snorting and huffing. He rose his pointing finger, telling the both men to give him a moment. Then he took a deep inhale. "You ... you ... you're looking for a tall guy?"

The hunter huffed, a glint of amusement crossing his face. "Sorry, not interested, buddy."

"NO!", he barked out. "Think I know who you're lookin' for ..."

That drew both men's attention.

"You do?" Castiel spoke for the first time this evening. "What do you charge for this information?"

Because nowadays no one did something for free.

The dorky guy shook his head, grey eyes looking a bit hurt. "I just wanna know what you want from him. - That's all. He's ... somehow he's my friend ... So ..." He seemed to hesitate, regretting his decision to go after these men. "I just don't want him to get hurt ..."

The both men stared at him surprised, then changed another gaze, communicating with nothing more than their looks.

Dean cleared his throat. "That's mighty mighty of you to follow us into a dark alley ...", he just said, watching the man closely for any kind of reaction. "... so all on your own."

The very next moment, the small man's eyes changed into a yellow-red, pupils dilating and the dark circles around his iris becoming thinner. "Is it?"A low snarl came over his lips. "A faint scent of you was all over him when I found him fourteen weeks ago ... I didn't know what it was that drew my attention on the both of you ... and then ... then I knew what it was. It was him. Besides ... your eyes ... he was talking about a green-eyed monster that haunted him in his fever-dreams ..." He didn't say that in a way that led on, that he truly thought that the hunter was a monster. He cocked his head to the side as if he was thinking for a moment. "You smelled desperate in there ... and your scent tells me that you still are ... you're smelling like hope too ..."

The man's eyes morphed back to grey, as Dean Winchester's eyes widened.

His scent had been at the guy? Had FOUND him three months ago? Dean's mind started to race, so did his heart. It couldn't be true, could it?

Could it really be Sam?

"If you want to, I can bring you to him.", he offered hesitantly. "But ... if there's any sign, that he's afraid of you ... or your angel-friend ..:" Garth glanced at Castiel. "... I'll kick you out."

Dean and Cas shared a short glance again and the angel gave him a short nod. "As you say.", Dean gave back reassuringly.

"I can assure you, that we are not here to hurt Sam. - We were looking for him for quite some time now. He's our friend too ..." Castiel spoke up calmly. "He might be in danger ..."

The small man's gaze darted between the hunter and the angel. A low growl erupted deep down from his throat. "Danger you say? ... Maybe _demons_?"

Both gave him a rather worried look.

"I'm Garth by the way ..." He extended his hand, wearing a small smile on his lips.

"Well, Garth.", Dean shook the man's hand. "I'm Dean ...", he nodded towards the angel. "That's Cas."

"It's quite a march to where we're stayin'.", he turned around, then stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. "Just ... don't freak out when you see him. He's pretty banged up at the moment. - ... he's ... kinda sick."

Dean's face changed immediately into a mask of concern and worry. _... all his fault. _"You lead, we'll follow."

The short guy gave them a nod.

He hadn't lied. It was quite a walk to the small house outside of the gates of Tuscon. When they passed the giant door, he simply changed the color of his eyes and the guards let them pass.

Dean and Cas were merely surprised. They had thought, that no one would let a monster behind the barriers. Then again ... Tucson was different after all.

The only weapon the small man wore were his claws. Ever since they had passed the barrier, his hands seemed unnaturally big and a little bit more hairy than they had been before. Sharp long nails stood out under the overlong sleeves of his jacket, as they walked.

"So ...", Dean started, "... you said you FOUND him?"

Garth nodded. "He was a mess back then. Not sure what the kid's problems were ... Though after some time I noticed that it wasn't something physical. - Tell me ..." He suddenly stopped and swung around. There was a slight demanding undertone in his voice now. "... Tell me how it's even possible, IF he's truly a friend of yours, that you let him all alone out there?" There was a flash of anger in Garth's eyes. A lack of understanding in his voice. "Me for my part ... I'm not letting my friends out there when they aren't able to defend themselves properly."

Yeah, this sure as hell was meant as an insult. He just avoided to call him an ass streight away ...

Dean swallowed. The cold black pit in his stomach expanding. "We had an argument ..."

Garth eyes narrowed and he looked at the hunter and then the angel suspiciously, as if to check if he was telling the truth. "Don't tell me crap. - I know when someone's lying. And I can tell that you hurt him. Because you feel guilty. - HE on the other side feels ashamed as hell. STILL. Even after months ..." Garth turned back around and continued to walk down the alley, an angel and a hunter on his heels.

There was some more silence then.

"It's not far anymore.", the short man said as they rounded a corner that led on a wider street. Abandoned houses to their left and right, where families had lived before everything happened.

There had been a couple of walkers on the way ... but nothing none of them was capable of taking care of.

When they finally reached a house with a greyish picket-fence, Dean stopped. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, that wouldn't go away ever since the guy had mentioned that he had smelled Dean on HIM.

He was loaded with anticipation ... and doubt. How'd Sam react? What was he supposed to say to him? Would it even be Sam in there? _Hey there, it's me ... remember the guy that let you down?_

_... to be continued_

* * *

**HOW BAD DO YOU GUYS WANT ME TO CONTINUE?**


	18. Chapter 18 Of Making It Better

Okay, because I got so many nice reviews ... I can't leave you guys hanging, so I updated earlier as I expected.

But I do earn some bacon for it, do I? :P

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 18 ~ Of Making It Better**_

THEN:

_There had been a couple of walkers on the way ... but nothing none of them was capable of taking care of._

_When they finally reached a house with a greyish picket-fence, Dean stopped. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, that wouldn't go away ever since the guy had mentioned that he had smelled Dean on HIM._

_He was loaded with anticipation ... and doubt. How'd Sam react? What was he supposed to say to him? Would it even be Sam in there? ____Hey there, it's me ... remember the guy that let you down?_

* * *

NOW:

As Dean stood there in the darkness of the night, just a full moon baring some light, he stared at the house before him. All of a sudden he didn't know if he really wanted this. If he was truly sure, that he wanted Sam back, that he wanted to make it different, make it better. He didn't know if he deserved to be forgiven ... if he'd have the strength to even try.

Castiel stood beside him, noticing the inner battle of his old friend in an instant. "You've been looking for him for so long, Dean. - This is what you want, isn't it?"

Dean nodded shakily. "That's what I want.", he said with new determination, though hesitant.

"Because if you're not sure ... we leave it be. We turn around and drive back to the bunker." The angel sounded sure of what he was saying. But then again, there was this sound on the edges of his voice while he spoke, that sounded much more like he was hoping that they wouldn't.

Garth was already up on the porch, when the hunter and the angel finally decided to catch up with him. When they entered, the house inside was dark. A moment later it got slightly illuminated by an oil lamp. Garth lightened another one further down the corridor.

To the both men's surprise, the small corridor in wich they stood was clean. Squeaky clean. Actually they had thought about a crappy dirty hole in the ground ... But obviously werewolves weren't as filthy as they had thought.

So they followed the small man as he walked further down the corridor, lightening up another oil lamp wich he took with him. At the end of the corridor he went through a door to his left. Both men following short behind.

They barely had rounded the corner, when Garth gasped and rushed forward, falling on his knees beside a crumbled heap on the floor in the middle of the small room. He sat the lamp aside, laying a hand on the head of the male figure.

A brown mop of hair and long limps was all it needed to identify the man ...

Dean Winchester's heart skipped a beat ... then another one ...

"No no no ...", the wolfman whimpered like he was in physical pain. "Sam? ... Sam? Are you okay?" Garth's hands morphed back to normal, as he cupped the man's head in his hands, lifting it gently from the hard wooden floor.

"What happened?", Dean was on his side, also on his knees in a split second, searching the man's neck for a pulse.

It was racing.

"Not again ..." Garth ran his fingers through the sweat-damp hair. He looked at Dean for a long moment. "He's got one of his headaches probably ... he tends to collapse right afterwards."

The both of them turned the man carefully on his back. Arms and legs landed limply beside him on the floor with a silent thump, while the wolfman stabilized his head.

Dean's eyes narrowed, as his gaze fell on the pale, wit scruff covered face that was just too familiar.

"Sammy?", choked out, his voice thin. "Sam?" He laid his hand on the man's cheek. "You hear me?"

Garth's worried frown deepened even more. "Let's get him back on the bed ..."

Dean gave him a short nod and on three they had the man on his feet, taking over the full weight of him. Then they carried him to the small bed and sat him down there, his limp body giving in every move the two men made.

Dean took his head and upper body, while Garth grabbed the hooker's legs and they laid him on the bed.  
It actually looked ridiculous. The bed was just long enough, so that his feet wouldn't tangle down from the end of the bed, though it was plenty broad.

Dean sat down on the very edge, grabbing Sam's cold hand tightly. "Sam? - Can you hear me?", Dean asked silently.

Nothing.

"It was never that bad ..." Garth spoke through gritted teeth as he crouched down beside him. "Damn it."

The hunter's gaze darted at the wolf. "How long is this going on now?", he tried to keep the anger at himself at bay, trying to stay calm.

Garth sniffed. "About a couple of days. - Ellen sent one of her runners out for me. When I came into the club, Sam was in her office. Pale, shivering and wrapped up in blankets on her sofa. - He had passed out during one his sessions with a client ... First I thought he's got a cold or somethin'." He cleared his throat. "Gladly he's working for _her_ and not another cathouse-momma. - She's a real sweetheart, asks me every time 'bout Sam when I pass by." The short man looked up, the warm smile on his face fading again. "But it's gettin' worse ..." A sorrowful expression on his face, as he turned around and walked towards the door. "I go and get some soup warmed up. - Just don't ... don't do something stupid. I can hear everything ..." Just hesitantly he stepped away from the room, eying Dean watching Sam intently.

"We won't. - Trust us. We're worried about him. That's why we're here." The hunter looked up at the short man, nothing but truth in his eyes.

Though, the werewolf eyed the both men a bit longer, before he finally left the room.

Castiel stayed where he was for a moment longer, watching his hunter-friend's back, before he took off, following Garth into the kitchen.

"What the hell, boy?", Dean muttered, his eyes tearing up a little. "Thought you're out of the business. Thought you wouldn't ..." He trailed off sniffing.

Dean blew out a breath, as he watched Sam's pale face more intently. "I'm sorry. I know you can't hear me right now, but I'm gonna tell you the same again when you wake up. - I'm honestly sorry how things went the last time we saw each other." He paused and thought. "I honestly thought it'd be better if you'd stay away from me ... to push you away as far as possible ... because ... because back then I was feeling something I didn't want to admit to myself. I just couldn't bring myself to accept it ... - You weren't mistaken when you thought that I like you. I just ... I don't know ... I think I messed everything up."

The hunter reached up and brushed a damp lock out of Sam's face, brushing with the fingertip of his index-finger over one of the pained lines on his forehead.

"I know I've been an ass. - But ... _why_ did you have to take off like this? Jo told you about the possible after-effects and ... and that you might'd need help to get through this ..." He sucked in his lower lip, his frown deepening.

The younger man's lips quivered, his eyelids fluttered. "'_cause ya were r't ..._", he mumbled barely hearable.

"Sam?", Dean sat up straighter, resting a hand on the younger man's cheek again, brushing over his jaw ever so gently.

"_Go away ..._" Sam sucked in a deep breath, though it seemed to be a weak intend. "_'o 'way ..."_

Dean's lips pressed together in dismay. He had hoped it wouldn't go down like this. Then again, he had tought that it would anyway. He wouldn't want to see himself again either.

"Sam ... please ..." Dean Winchester actually BEGGED. "Just ... just hear me out ..."

"_Not now ..._", Sam blew out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

Dean nodded to himself, pulling his hands away slowly. "Sure ... when you're better ..."

Another shuddering exhale. "'_kay_."

The younger man shifted under the covers and turned to his side, away from Dean, obviously shivering. What didn't pass the hunter unnoticed.

Dean flipped the ends of the bedding to his left and right over him. He then went out, asking Garth (who was still busy to heat up soup on a small gas-oven) for some more blankets. But the wolf didn't have that many, so the hunter was forced to pull the ones on Sam's bed out under him, to hold him warm.

They should've taken the Impala ... they had blankets in there, was all Dean could think of.

* * *

Dean didn't want anything more than help Sam. Helping him to sit up, helping him to get some soup down. He wanted to help him in general ... but the hooker didn't let him. He pushed the hunter's hand aside weakly every time he tried to.

Just Garth was allowed to help him, support him.

Sam showed him that he still had some pride left ... even when it was little.

And the hunter accepted that. - He had to if he didn't want to get kicked out by the small werewolf anyway. Not that he thought that the pup would have a chance anyway. But Garth seemed nice. One of the less wolves out there that actually had their heart on the right place. AND he was caring about Sam – what HE in fact hadn't done.

So he just sat there, on a chair ... watching over Sam's sleeping form. Because THAT was the only thing he actually could do.

Castiel had laid down in one of the other rooms soon after Sam had drunk the broth made of instant-powder. According to Garth it was the only thing Sam'd be able to hold down at the moment anyway.

The short guy changed then into his wolf-form. An actual _wolf_ ... not the thing Dean was hunting usually. Though, Garth was way bigger now, like a black dog. Just that his fur looked scruffy and twisted as hell. Surely not like he should've been looking like.

Might as well there was another kind of werewolf-breed out there though. One about Dean Winchester didn't know yet.

The wolf hopped onto the bed at the side where Sam was facing the wall and curled up around the human protectively, giving a soft snor when Sam nestled into him.

And at that point, Dean was wondering if their relationship wasn't more than just being friends. They acted like they were more intimate as it had looked like in the first place.

What actually made the hunter a bit jealous (well, not just a bit to be honest).

The hunter leaned back in the chair, Garth had brought in for him, obviously sensing that he wouldn't get the Winchester out of the room anytime soon.

* * *

Sun peaked through the windows. A welcoming warmth and even more welcoming day-light woke Dean Winchester right then, when Sam started to stir.

The young man lay on the bed on his own, the wolf already gone before the morning even started to dawn.

The hunter shifted with an uncomfortable groan in the chair, stretching his legs and flexing the sore muscles of his back.

"You should've slept on the bed, Garth had prepared for you, hunter." Sam muttered hoarsely, as he looked through dazed, half-lidded eyes in the Winchester's direction.

Dean blinked and sniffed, and blinked again. "Well ... I didn't want to.", he gave back a moment later, sitting up in the chair.

"Don't do that.", Sam's look changed from half-asleep to wide awake, with a touch of anger. "Don't ride the _i-feel-guilty-that's-why-i'm-stayin'-beside-you trip_." He swallowed. "So ... WHY are you here? You didn't went all the way down to Tucson to visit the whore you once saved."

Ouch ... that hurt. It weren't the words, that drove a numb stick right through Dean's guts and turned it around. It was because of the way he was saying it. The hurt in his voice, the shame ... the anger (at himself for being foolish enough to even try to think that the hunter came for him. Just HIM).

"Sam ..." The hunter sighed and rubbed over his face. It was too early after awaking to talk about that. He haven't even had something to drink yet ...

"No. - Tell me. Did Jo left? Or do you NEED something special?" Sam sat up and swung his legs out of bed.

Obviously moving too fast, he gripped with his hand at his head, squeezed his eyes shut and held with his other one onto the edge of the mattress as dizziness overcame him. The very next moment he felt his torso falling forward, just to get caught a moment later by two strong hands that gripped him by his biceps.

"Hey hey hey ... don't be hasty." Dean was close to him. So close. Their foreheads nearly touching, when the hunter kneeled before him, forcing him gently back into a more upright position.

"Don't touch me.", the hooker hissed through gritted teeth, trying to twist out of the hunter's hold.

But Dean didn't let go, he didn't even flinch. Instead he held him for a moment longer like that and then released his grip slowly, cupping the man's face in his hands.

"No.", Dean breathed, fixing Sam's deep dark eyes with his gaze. "I won't let you go again. - I'm here because I made a mistake. I was looking for you ever since you took off. I should've never pushed you away. Should've never said the things I did. I ... I'm sorry, Sam. I really am ..."

For a long moment they just stared at each other. Sam's yaw worked, his eyes glistening. He wanted to believe the hunter. He wanted to believe him so bad ... but he couldn't. Who said that Dean wouldn't turn into a dick again?

"Yeah?" There was a spark of hope in his voice – just for a moment. "Why do I not believe you?"

The younger man turned away from his touch and jumped up, letting Dean skip back on his hells. He stared after the hooker, as he walked swaying out of the room and into the corridor. Short after, there was the sound of a door sliding shut, and a click right after as if it was being locked.

Sam's frame looked more slender, more fragile, was what Dean noticed first. The sharp lines of his jaw and nose, the dark circles under dull eyes. An expression on his face, that promised wisdom about something no one else would knew. As if a heavy burden weighted upon his shoulders.

_... to be continued_

* * *

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	19. Chapter 19 Winning Him Back

**Because I can't let you guys wait THAT LONG ... and because I thought it's time for love & peace & more love ...  
**

**Here we go with the next chapter for those who still stick with me and the story!**

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 19 ~ Winning Him Back**_

THEN:

_"Yeah?" There was a spark of hope in his voice – just for a moment. "Why do I not believe you?"_

_The younger man turned away from his touch and jumped up, letting Dean skip back on his hells. He stared after the hooker, as he walked swaying out of the room and into the corridor. Short after, there was the sound of a door sliding shut, and a click right after as if it was being locked._

_Sam's frame looked more slender, more fragile, was what Dean noticed first. The sharp lines of his jaw and nose, the dark circles under dull eyes. An expression on his face, that promised wisdom about something no one else would knew. As if a heavy burden weighted upon his shoulders._

* * *

NOW:

So yeah. Sam wouldn't come back with him to the bunker that easily, that much was clear. Not before Dean would be able to convince him that he didn't have second thoughts. That he didn't NEED anything from him, Jo couldn't give.

So he had to be wise about it. - He shouldn't push Sam in any way, just SHOW him, that he wanted to have him back with him in the safest place on earth, because he actually CARED ... though he wasn't sure if he'd be able to proof himself to Sam like that.

* * *

Garth returned to the house in the very early morning-hours. Naked. With two dead rabbits in his hands. The dead animal's bodies still warm ... and covered in blood.

Dean tried not to look under the upper half of the tiny man's body (hell yes ... the rabbits looked like giant killer-beasts in Garth's hands).

Cas didn't seem to care that much about being naked in public, as he walked down the corridor and into the kitchen.

He threw the rabbits into the sink and headed streight for his room. Obviously to get dressed, since he reemerged not later than five minutes after that in a fresh set of clothes.

What Dean Winchester was thankful for, actually.

"Where's Sam?" Garth stared at the empty bed and then at Dean, who sat on the edge of it. Something in the werewolf's face changed, his lines became harder, his eyes cooler. "He's sad ... why did you have to make him sad, huh?", He asked reproachfully, nearly sounding like a five-year old right then. "He never hurt anyone, _you_ know? And for what his job is ... I think he didn't have another choice to survive. Otherwise no one would do THAT." Garth sniffed and snuffed, sticking his nose into the air and sucking in a deeper breath.

"Oh ..." He looked back at Dean and cocked his head to the side. "I go and get us some food ready. - I know you humans don't like it all raw and bloody like me." The expression on his face changed into a friendlier again, as he tilted his head to the side and seemed to listen and sniff the air again.

He then turned around to see the angel in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at him. "And you? - We both will get the hunter's car over here after breakfast." He cleared his throat and looked back at Dean. "Can't let it out there for too long on its own."

The hunter's face darkened instantly, saying _no one but me touches my baby. _The very next moment it lightened a bit and something knowing dawned on his face. "Sure thing. - You and Cas go and get MY baby over here. I'm gonna watch out for Sam."

A bit confused, the angel stared at his hunter-friend for a moment longer before he realized what Garth was trying to do. Somehow the werewolf seemed to know exactly what either one of them was feeling.

Maybe it was because of the scents he was able to take in. Or it was just the knowledge of a bunch full of periods he had already lived among the human race.

"But first ...", Garth nodded towards the corridor, "... we're gonna get the rabbits stripped down and prepared. - Sam's making a damn good stew out of the lil' hoppers."

Dean rose an eyebrow at the small man. "I don't think that he wants me around, Garth. - Besides: You think he's up to cooking?" _... I mean – he looks like shit, as if he can't hold his own weight for longer than five minutes ... _

Garth sniffed again. "Sam's stubborn about things. - He wants to contribute something to me for stayin' here.", He lowered his voice then. "I'd rather have him cooking something nice, instead of trying to tidy up the whole damn house. Because THAT'S something he sure as hell can't do at the moment in his condition. - You understand?" The wolfman rose both eyebrows, pulling the skin tighter around his face, letting his face look even more bonier than before. "If I wouldn't let him do something for staying here with me, he'd go back out there and would try to do his job in the club ... just to get something to trade.", he trailed off and looked pensively for a long moment, staring into nothing, before he focused back on Dean. "And I'd rather don't want him see that he tries that ..."

The hunter nodded knowingly and thrusted his jaw forward, running his tongue along the inside of his lips. "Right. - You're right ..."

Choosing the lesser evil seemed to be a good idea. At least he'd stay in the house. And if he'd collapse or something he'd do it at least in a safe place ... might as well Garth was right about that.

"Fine.", he spoke louder.

The wolfman and the hunter shared a glance that said more than thousands words. _I trust you on this. Don't mess it up. I'm giving you a chance to make him feel better. _

"And Dean wouldn't dare to mess it up. No way in hell or heaven ... or purgatory.

That was when the lock of the bathroom-door was heard as it slid back and the door opened slowly. Sam's hair combed, the scruff covering his face was removed, and he wore comfortable looking sweats and a wide hoodie. Who would've thought that sleeves could be too long for a guy of his hight?

"Hey, Sam." Garth beamed at the tall man with admiration.

Sam smiled back at him warmly. "Got something I can work with?" His eyes still dull, but with a spark of life in them now. "Just tell me it ain't rats again, huh?"

The short wereman grinned now from ear to ear. "Nope. - Sweet cuddly bunnies ... two of them."

Sam chuckled. "You think that makes me feel any better?"

"No. - But it's food. And you need it right now." Garth sniffed and turned back to Dean. "So ...", he spoke up, "... you're gonna watch Sam. - Me and your angel are gonna get the car over here."

And at that moment, Sam's face paled more (if even possible). It wasn't like he was afraid that the hunter could possibly hurt him (physically). He just didn't know if he'd be capable of withstand those eyes ... those lips ... If he'd be able to suppress the feelings that started to wash over him all over again. - Just to get pushed away again.

Sam still owned a few shreds of self-esteem and modesty. The hunter's words still echoing through his mind every time he looked at him. Nearly too much to bear at the moment.

"Don't give me that look." Garth disturbed the nephilim's thoughts. "My house. My rules. - You're not gonna stay here on your own if it's not necessary. Besides I've to pick up some more of your painkillers, Sam."

With a silent sigh, the man nodded and closed the bathroom-door behind himself as he cast his look down. When he looked back up at the wereman, Sam's eyes were huge and looked almost like those of a Saint Bernhard.

"I'm gonna hurry ...", Garth promised worriedly. "Will be back before you're done with cookin', boy."

Sam gave him a trusting look and a short nod, never looking at the hunter.

Soon after Garth and the angel had left, Sam started to pry the meat off of the bones with a small knife. He was working slow but precise.

So did Dean with the onions, carrots and tomatoes, adapting his pace to the younger man's. Though, scrabbling the meat from the bones didn't seem that easy anyway (when you're not a butcher), so Dean took the other bunny and started to work on him.

Out of the corner of his right eye, he recognized that Sam was starting to lean against the cupboard more and more. He noticed the younger man's buckling knees and the way he worked the knife even more tentatively.

"Maybe you should lay down for a while, huh?", the hunter dared to speak up after a while of watching.

"'M good ...", was all he got back.

Dean huffed and sniffed and continued to work on the piece of meat and bones, always having a watchful eye at Sam beside him from the corners of his eyes.

Sam wouldn't give up. He didn't. No matter how bad he was feeling.

"Dude. - To who do you wanna proof something?", he snapped, ramming the knife through the ribcage of the rabbit and into the surface of the cupboard.

Sam flinched and looked up, meeting the hunter's gaze. "I've a lot to proof to myself actually, you know?", and with that he focused back on cutting, tossing the pieces of meat into a pot in between the both of them. "At least I can do something useful, while Garth's out there, trying to get his claws on a hand full of pills that're gonna help me coping ... It's not a lot that I can actually do. - He's the only one since over a week now who's bringing home food and supplies."

"And he seems pretty fine with it, as long as you're doing better.", the hunter stated in return, cocking an eyebrow at the younger man beside him.

"Well. - But I am not. Actually I'm a liability to him." Sam sniffed, suddenly bracing his palms on the cupboard and sucking in a deep breath.

Dean's face turned worried. "You okay?", he let go of his knife and stepped closer, ready to jump when Sam'd fall. "You need to lie down, okay? - Just for a couple of minutes ..." It wasn't an order. Nor dominant. His voice was pure concern ...

The younger man gave him a tired glance and a barely noticable nod. In an attempt to turn himself around on his heels, he swayed, his trembling knees giving out at the very moment.

But Dean was there. He caught him, wrapped his arms around Sam's middle from behind, one hand resting flat on his belly and the other one on his solar plexus.

"C'mon. I'm gonna help ya'.", the hunter whispered.

Sam hadn't any strength left to rebel. He just went with it, letting himself being led into his room. Dean – ever so gently – let him sit down and helped him carefully to get into a lying position. He then pulled the blankets over him.

Sam looked up at him, in the very moment the seam of the blanket reached his shoulders, catching the hunter's gaze. Deep green, worried emerald-eyes were staring down at him. And if he wasn't mistaken, he could see a bit of hurt in them too.

"Jo was right ...", Sam started silently, "it's a rough thing ... the remembering ... She told me it'd get bad, that I should stay around her ... that she could help me then ..." He paused. "But I was so mad and ashamed that night ... I just couldn't, you know? - I couldn't stay with you there around me. Specially not the bunker ... and with the others. I couldn't ..."

Dean sat back, watching him closely for a moment longer. "You couldn't because I was an ass. - I know ..." Dean bit down on his lower lip. "I'm not good at that touchy-feely-stuff, Sam. - I never was. But I want to try, you know? Because ... because I like you." He blushed slightly at his last words. "And ... I do worry about you, Sammy. - I have for the past five months." Dean paused pensively. "And I pretty much know about the things Jo told you. I know what you're seeing during your flashbacks ... - Because she told me everything about the remembering ... She also told me every time I headed out to find you, that I should bring you back in one piece. - That you wouldn't be able to escape the memories and that you might need help with them."

Sam blinked tiredly, his eyelids seemed to get heavier with every blink. "WHY did you really came here, huh? - Because I don't buy the '_Dean Winchester falls in love with a hooker crap_'. - You can tell me. I'm not mad at you. I never was mad at you. I actually can understand you pretty well. - Because I'm not sure if I'd want myself ...", his voice trailed off, sounding raw.

"I told you ... I'm _worried_." Dean stared down at the man. "And I wanna make it up to you." Though he understood the man's confusion. He hadn't been exactly an emotionally stable man. Had been friendly and then again mad at him without a reason and vice versa. No, he couldn't blame the man – not at the least.

Sam cleared his throat gingerly. "Even if it'd be true ... that you cared ... and _things_ ..." the man's voice grew more silent with every word he spoke, fighting sleep as long as possible.

"We can talk about that kinda stuff when you're up again." Dean leaned forward, brushed a chestnut-brown lock out of Sam's face and behind his ear. His voice was soft like velvet and comforting. "Just try to relax for a while ... - I'll prepare the rest and then I'll get ya', so you can show me how to cook that awesome stew of yours, huh?"

He smiled reassuring, even if the man probably didn't understand him anymore as he dozed off moments before he had finished.

* * *

As promised, the hunter stripped down the rabbit's flesh from the bones and chopped the bigger junks into smaller ones. Then he went back into Sam's bedroom, stopping in his tracks, leaning against the door frame and watched the younger man snore silently.

Of course he had taken longer than necessary to prepare the meat and vegetables. So that the nephilim could get some more rest.

"Sammy.", he muttered with a soft smile. He WOULD make it up again, he'd show himself, his friends and Sam that he could be different. That he wasn't a cold bastard. That he was able to LOVE. More than that: That he was able to SHOW LOVE.

Dean walked over to the bed hesitantly. - Actually he didn't want to wake Sam. But he should. He had kind of promised it to him,_ hadn't he_? Besides ... Dean wasn't sure how to make the stew (at least that was what he told himself).

"Sam. - C'mon. It's time for the cooking-stuff.", Dean whispered gently, laying his hand on Sam's shoulder where he have had those deep gashes months ago. "Sammy. Wake up, kiddo."

And Sam did. His eyelids fluttered, his nose twitched, his legs shifted. "How long?", he muttered barely hearable.

"An hour or so ...", Dean answered with a soft smile.

"For a hunter you need pretty long to chop meat ... - Even for a housewife it took you long ..." A cocky grin spread over Sam's face.

Then he opened his eyes and looked at the hunter, who stood beside him. Dean wrinkled his nose and cocked both eyebrows, thinking about a cocky answer to return. But he couldn't let himself doing this, because all he had in his mind he could retort was mean or insulting. And for the first time in a long time he thought before he spoke, and adjudged to keep his mouth shut.

"Now that we know that I'm worse than a housewife when it comes to cooking ... - What'd you say? Garth and Cas are gonna be here soon ... so ..."

Sam nodded and threw the blankets back, yawning and rubbing over his face in an attempt to wipe the sleep away. But it didn't quite work. He was damn tired those last couple of days and he wasn't sure if it ever would go away. At least it felt like it wouldn't go away that soon. Feeling himself and seeing others die a hundreds of deaths since about a week ... he blew out a deep sigh ... it was draining and tiring and all kinds of messed up.

Dean waited patiently until Sam was back on his feet. First he seemed a bit unstable on his knees, but soon he looked like he was catching up on his own rhythm.

So the both of them went into the kitchen, where Dean was firing the gas-heating-plate on. Sam leaned with his hips against the cupboard, when he put the pot onto the hot plate.

"What happens when you're ... you remember?", Dean looked up from watching Sam stirring in the pot.

Sam sighed deeply. "Everything. - The things that happened before I lived. The things that happened before they treated me in the psychiatric ward ... - EVERYTHING in high definition." He sniffed. "I guess ... If I'd have known that, I wouldn't have done it. - I would've gone back on the strip or something ..."

Dean tilted his head to the side. "Thought you're working for someone called Ellen?", he asked confused. "Ain't that the same?"

Sam chuckled ironically. "Yeah ... actually it is ... just ... she's _nice_." He looked up with a warm expression on his face. "She _cares_. - She won't let any psychopaths hurt us, you know? She doesn't accept clients who get off on blood-play ... and other _things_. We don't need to do what we don't want to do. - Guess she's the best pimp I've ever met ..."

Dean watched Sam closely, as if to look for any kinds of untruths about what he said. But he saw none. As he saw the warm smile on the younger man's face he wished he'd be one of those people who could make him smile that way.

"Hand me the onions?", Sam asked and glanced up at the hunter.

Dean did as he was told. "And ... how often does that happen? I mean ... you know ... how often do you have those flashbacks?"

Sam frowned, his face darkening. "On a daily basis ... each time I am able to remember some more. - I know now how I became what I am ... or ... how my human form got occupied with that angel-demon-thing I am ..."

The hunter noticed Sam's embarrassment, that it wasn't okay for him to be different like that.

"Jo said ... you're not an angel-demon-thing. - She said you and your folks are a separate race. There's nothing good or bad about ya' ... For me? For me you're as human as I am. Just with some extra-features." He smiled, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

"You think so? ..." Sam wasn't convinced.

"Already know what you're able to do? Any powers or abilities you haven't had before?" Yeah, the hunter was a nosy guy. He never denied that.

Sam shook his head. "And even if there are ... I don't want to know about them. I just want to get over with it, and get back to the club. Doing my job, taking on my part so that Garth doesn't have to try and save the both of us from starving to death."

The hunter's gaze darkened, staring at the man intently. He didn't want him to go back there. He didn't want anyone to touch Sam. Dean well knew that he hadn't have any say in this ... but he at least had to try. He wanted to take Sam back to the bunker. And if necessary he'd take the wolfman with them, since he didn't look dangerous at all.

"So ... there's no chance to get you to come back with us?" The words spilled over his lips before he even could think them through.

Sam looked up, rather surprised. "Me?" He chuckled. "I'm of no use down there, am I? You've Jo. I'm sure she can tell you a whole lotta more about my kind than me."

Dean cleared his throat and laid his hand over Sam's, stopping him from chopping the onions. The both of them locked their gazes. Hazel-green eyes melted with emerald-green ones.

"I want you to come with me. I don't care about the rest. I just want you to come with me, because I want to have you by my side, Sam. - I want you to stay with me. I want another chance with you. - Because you weren't mistaken back there in the bunker when you tried to kiss me. - I was just too stupid to react in the proper way back then. ... I ... I ... I just don't know ..." Dean broke off as the front-door was opened.

Sam added the vegetables and onions to the meat, instead of saying anything to Dean. He just stared into the sizzling and roasting ingredients in the pot.

Now Sam looked somehow sad ... and oh, how amazingly awesome that would be, if the wereman would smell that.

* * *

After lunch Sam headed back into his room and closed the door, slumping down into the mattress and pulling the blankets over him. He hadn't been able to eat a lot. He just ate as much as he needed to, so that the painkillers wouldn't come back up again.

Yes, he learned from his failures.

So Dean, Castiel and the wereman sat in the small kitchen at the small table, putting their plates together. Garth had been right, the stew had been one of the best things they had ever ate, even with the small of salt and pepper Sam had used.

"So ... what's this about? - This seizures? Something tells me, that you guys know ..." Garth's eyes narrowed. "Sam won't. - He said it's better if I don't ... he's worried about me, so I guess it's something pretty bad ... AND ... he's muttering something about angels and demons and about abominations ..." He cleared his throat and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table before him, as he fixed the hunter with his look. "And don't tell me crap. - I'm his friend. I need to know."

Castiel sat up straighter.

Dean leaned back in the chair with a deep sigh. "Sam didn't tell you ..." It wouldn't do any good, if he'd betray Sam, if he'd tell the wolfman what Sam obviously didn't want him to know. Then again, if Sam wouldn't come back to the bunker with them, then Garth had to know.

"Yes, he didn't. - So it's on you to do so. I NEED to know if it's about demons and angels. - Because some weird stuff happened the past couple of days in Tucson."

That got the hunter's and the angel's attention.

"What kind of weird stuff?", Dean asked warily.

"Some kind of angel-demon-war's goin' on. - There smoked out bodies without eyes. Here some slit throats ..." Garth paused pensively and sucked in a deep breath. "It's about Sam, isn't it? - Are they comin' for him?"

Castiel and the hunter shared a knowing look, that said clearly: _Time to get away from here ... _

"So that's it, isn't it? - They are after Sam?" Garth's eyes widened, color draining from his face.

Castiel nodded and Dean spoke: "We gotta get Sam away from here and into the bunker before they find him. - Whatever they want it can't be good-"

"Because I'm not human. Because I'm an abomination. BECAUSE if I'd know what I'm capable of, I'd be able to kill them in a matter of a wink. Because – of all what I know – they can use me for some quite fancy rituals. - That's why." Sam stood in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame.

The three of them flashed their attention towards him, staring surprised in Sam's direction.

"Thought you're restin'?" Garth was calm, rising an eyebrow at the young man. "Because that's what you should do, kid. - REST. R.E.S.T. Rest."

"I know how to spell it, Garth." Sam smirked at him. He took a shuddering breath. "Guess that means it's time for me to leave ... before they track me down again."

"The hell you are.", "Don't you dare.", "I do not think that this is the right way to handle this.", all three spoke at once.

And Sam just chuckled and shook his head, sympathetically. "I think that's the only way to deal with this situation."

"You don't go out there on your own." Garth stated casually. "Not in your condition. - Not ever."

"I don't see how someone could possibly hold me back." Sam's voice was calm and reassuring, but his face was covered in sadness.

"Garth's right. - You can't be out there on your own." Castiel frowned.

"That's why he comes back with us to the bunker. - So does Garth." It was a statement, more of an order or a suggestion. He rose his hand, as Sam and the wolfman wanted to speak up. "It's the safest thing. They WILL come here, like they came for Jo. They WILL find Garth, and if you're gone, they'll try to beat the informations out of him. They'll kill him. The bunker's the only place where you're safe. Where you both are safe. - They can't track any of us down there."

Sam's face changed, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips formed into a tight line, and his eyes fluttered shut. He leaned further into the door frame, holding onto it with his right hand in a vice grip.

"No ... god, no ... not now ...", was all he managed to get out before he dropped to his knees with an agonized cry.

Dean was on his feet and in front of Sam on his knees in a matter of seconds. The hunter cradled the younger man's face in his hands, trying to get him to look at him.

Another yell, and Sam cramped. The hunter let him slump against him, wrapping one arm around the hooker's middle and laying one on the back of his head. Sam pressed his face into Dean's shoulder, trying to suck in a breath.

"What do we do?", Dean asked panicking, as the wereman appeared beside them on his knees, laying his hand flat on Sam's back.

He shook his head. "Nothing. He has to ride it out."

_... to be continued_


	20. Chapter 20 We're Not Done Yet

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 20 ~ We Are Not Done Yet**_

THEN:

_Sam's face changed, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips formed into a tight line, and his eyes fluttered shut. He leaned further into the door frame, holding onto it with his right hand in a vice grip._

_"No ... god, no ... not now ...", was all he managed to get out before he dropped to his knees with an agonized cry._

_Dean was on his feet and in front of Sam on his knees in a matter of seconds. The hunter cradled the younger man's face in his hands, trying to get him to look at him._

_Another yell, and Sam cramped. The hunter let him slump against him, wrapping one arm around the hooker's middle and laying one on the back of his head. Sam pressed his face into Dean's shoulder, trying to suck in a breath._

_"What do we do?", Dean asked panicking, as the wereman appeared beside them on his knees, laying his hand flat on Sam's back._

_He shook his head. "Nothing. He has to ride it out."_

* * *

NOW:

Dean cradled the limp body of the young man in his arms. The hunter held him close – _so close._ What started out as spasms and cramps, ended up in a full-body-seizure with heart-wrenching cries and yells and ebbed away with a total collapse, loss about the control over his bodily fluids and heart-tearing whimpers and moans.

The hunter finally brought himself to ease his grip on Sam, who was heavily panting and weeping.

"It's okay, Sam.", Dean whispered gently, "I'm gonna get you on your bed, okay?"

The hunter waited for a respond, but got nothing more than a choked sob.

"Fine. - So ... just hang on and let us do all the work." Yes, he said WE, but actually meant no one else but himself.

With Garth's help, he got Sam back on his feet, and scooped him up in his arms, shifting and tugging until he was sure he got him right. Short puffs of warm air ghosted over the hunter's exposed neck, as Sam's head lolled into the crook of his neck.

Garth knew better than even suggest to help him carrying the young nephilim. He was a _were_ and able to smell scents that others couldn't. He knew about pretty every nuance of smell on the hunter by now. The only ones he hadn't smelled yet were anger and rage ... and Garth honestly didn't want to find out what the hunter smelled like when he was angry.

So he went for the bedroom-door and held it open, so that Dean could get Sam inside and on the bed without hindrances. He ever so carefully lowered him on it, letting the younger man's head sink back into the fluffy pillow.

Sam groaned and squeezed his eyes shut with a silent whimper as he rolled to his side, curling up in the very moment and cupped his head in his hands, shifting them until his eyes were covered and no light was coming through them anymore.

The hunter sat down beside him on the very edge and tugged the comforter over him, rubbing gentle circles with his flat palm into the man's back.

Garth came short after, with a bottle of pills and a glass of water. There was written "_morphine_" on the label. He popped one of the pills into his palm and squat down beside the bed.

"Sam?", the wereman asked silently, well knowing that the nephilim's head was about to explode. "I got your pills."

Sam's eyes opened to small slits.

"You gotta sit up, boy." Garth slipped a hand under his friend's neck to support him, but Sam refused to move just a bit. "You wanna swallow it dry?"

The young man's nod was barely noticable, but Garth knew Sam by now. So he also knew what he had to look out for.

"Open up."

Sam did what he was told and opened his mouth. He closed it again when he felt the pill on his tongue and swallowed – hard – to get it down.

Dean just sat there and watched, continuing to rub gentles into Sam's back, wich were meant to soothe him.

Castiel stood beside them, eying the young man on the bed and the hunter.

"He'll be out cold for a couple of hours as soon as the pills start to kick in." Garth sighed and sniffed, sitting back on his haunches beside the bed.

"I think we should not waste any more time, Dean." Castiel's face was dark, his eyes the color of the silent sea before the storm. "We need to get him to Jo. - She can help." The angel laid his hand on Sam's forehead. "It's going to kill him if we don't get him proper help."

Dean looked back up over his shoulder at his angel-friend with a concerned gaze. "We'll do." He caught the wereman's gaze. "You're comin' with us, aren't you?"

Garth chuckled and shook his head. "Nah – I'm not."

The hunter looked at him worriedly. "They're gonna kill you or worse."

The short man sniffed and sighed. "Look ... I'm not sayin' that I don't appreciate your concern about me. - BUT ... I'm used to be free, I'm used to let the wind wave around my snout. I'm a drifter. And the only reason why I actually stayed in this place for that long ...", he trailed off, his gaze falling onto Sam. "Besides: These bastards would have to find me first. And I honestly doubt that they'd be able to ..."

"Sam won't like that." In case the wolfman hadn't recognized, Dean thought he would remember him.

"Sure he won't. - He'll get over it." Garth grinned and sat back on his butt. "I'd suggest you take off as soon as Sam wakes up. - I just want you guys to take good care of him ..."

* * *

It took not longer than half an hour until Sam's whimpers subsided and he finally dozed off.

Dean kept a close eye on him, not leaving his side the entire time.

* * *

Four hours later, the sun was already setting at the horizon, Sam made his first signs of awaking. The hunter immediately straightened up in the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed, laying a hand on the bulge under the comforter.

Incoherent mumbling, interrupted by desperate whimpers let his heart clench and his ribcage tighten. Dean tightened his grip on the bulge under his hand, what had to be Sam's bicep and shook him carefully.

"It's okay, Sammy. - You're not alone ..." The hunter was about to ease his grip on him, when he felt a hand covering his and squeezing it tightly. "Just take it easy. - We don't need to hurry."

After a while, Dean's sitting position on the bed started to tear on his muscles, but he also didn't want to let go of Sam. So he did the only logical thing and laid down on the very edge of the bed, shifting and tugging himself close against Sam's back.

Completely unfortunately the younger man inched towards the other side of the bed and turned around, so that he was facing the hunter, but still didn't open his eyes. Sam snuggled into the soft pillow, holding Dean's hand in his.

Soon Sam settled back into a deeper sleep again and Dean followed short behind.

* * *

When Sam first started to surface from the drug-induced sleep, he felt a light throbbing pain in his head. The comfortable warmth from the comforter under wich he was tugged in, and a body right in front of him. An arm slung around his middle, holding him close.

Sam snuggled further into the soft fabric in wich his face was buried, giving a low animal-like purr as he nestled even closer. Sam didn't open his eyes, nor wanted to see who the burning furnace beside him was. May as well the morphine did its part on that anyway.

Dean didn't doze much longer. As soon as he felt something snuggling with a gentle force into his chest, his senses kicked in and his eyes flew open.

A small smile formed on the hunter's lips as he spotted the chestnut-brown mop of hair beneath him and he tightened his hold on Sam unconsciously as if to proof to his mind that he was really there. That he hadn't fled from him while he slept.

"Sam?", Dean asked hoarsely and yawned. "You awake."

A silent "Uhu.", came back.

"Sam ... we gotta get on the road." No, the hunter didn't want to leave the warmth of the bed. But they had to. They had to get going as soon as possible. Before wherever angels or demons would be able to find them. "They're on ya' heels."

Sam rubbed his nose against the hunter's chest and turned his head to the side, so that his ear was resting right above his heart.

"I mean it ..." No, the hunter didn't sound convinced about himself right then. "We need to get going."

Sam smacked his lips, still refusing to open his eyes. "Don't want to ...", he muttered.

The hunter chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "Guess you and Cas can hold hands when it comes about to be stoned ..." His eyes darkened for a moment. High likely Sam wouldn't let himself being hold by the hunter like this if he haven't had morphine in his system. Maybe he'd be disgusted instead of comfortable ...

All of a sudden, Sam's muscles tensed and the younger man's eyes flew open. His pupils dilated, his iris thin and barely visible. His face paled in the very moment.

"They're here ...", he breathed and sat up streight. "They're here ...", he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and sharp, his features changing into something dangerous.

Dean hadn't time to react, nor focusing on what his mind was yelling at him right then. "What? Who?"

"Angels.", Cas stated and tossed the hunter's duffel beside him on the floor. He then went for the window and lurked outside. "They're close. - Somewhere out there."

"Aren't they supposed to be friends?" Dean got to his feet, hand on the gun in his holster. "I mean ... ya' know ... after all."

"Dean, honestly? - I grounded my brothers and sisters upstairs. I cut off the ones on earth from their family. I don't think they wanna be friends with me. - And specially not with the human who messed up the archangel's plans in the first place ..." Castiel looked at him with big blue kitten-eyes.

"Okay then ... what do we do?", Garth appeared behind them, his hands morphed into dangerously looking paws and sharp claws.

"We try to talk to them. Ask what they want ..." Stupid question anyway since they already KNEW what they wanted. They wanted Sam. Probably dead and his head on a stick.

"I think it would be more clever if we don't wait for them to arrive at our doorstep, Dean. - They are in the majority.", the angel spoke up, letting his blade slide out under his sleeve to grab it at the hilt.

"How many, Cas?" Dean looked at his friend worriedly.

"Twelve. Maybe thirteen.", the angel answered with a frown. "If we go, we need to go now. The Impala is parked at the backside. - They probably haven't noticed us yet."

"You go, I'll stay." Sam straightened up. "They won't follow you."

Dean snarled and turned around, facing the swaying figure on the other side of the bed. "Hell you are. - You're comin' with." He looked at the wereman, who actually seemed to start to reconsider his choice to stay ... or carry on on his own. "You too. - No one gets left behind."

Garth gave them a short nod. "I won't get into the car. - I'll follow you guys on four paws." He looked into the round. "I can't lose your tracks. - You stink catastrophically ..." He gave them a smirk. "And you?", he looked at Sam. "You're comin' with. - Any word against it, and I'll make you."

Sam stared at the wereman bewildered.

"Fine. - Then let's go ...", Dean said, checking with a single look on each one of his friends, his gaze on Sam lingering a little bit longer. Then he winked at him with a small grin.

On their way out, they grabbed Sam's back pack, and Dean's duffel, taking the way over the small back yard, leaving everything else behind.

Garth turned, while he ran into scrubby fur on four paws, waiting for the two-legs to get into the car.

"Sam, Cas. Backseat.", the hunter ordered, as he tossed his duffel and Sam's back pack on the driver's seat.

Sam stumbled after them, tossing the rear-door open and slumping down on the backseat. Cas jumped in and slammed his door shut, when Dean already turned the ignition and his baby's engine roared to life.

They left Tucson behind them. Mile after mile turned down on the mileage as they headed north, a shaggy furred wolf following them, always keeping the black car in his line of vision.

Castiel sat on the backseat behind the passenger's side, staring out of the window and from time to time over his shoulder through the rear-window. Sam sat behind Dean, his head resting against the cool window, his eyes closed, desperately trying to hold the nausea at bay.

Finally – what seemed like an eternity – the hunter spoke up. "Cas?", he asked, glancing into the rearview mirror.

The angel's head snapped up. "Yeah?"

"You think they know that Sam was there? - You think they'll be able to track him down?" the hunter's voice was insecure and worried.

Castiel shook his head, pulling a small bag with tobacco and papers from his jacket. "I didn't see that he's different from any other human. - I think they would have just gotten lucky if they found him in in Tucson. I rather think they followed the demons over there, maybe even interrogated one ..." He seemed pensively, while he fixed himself a joint. "... No one besides a nephilim himself could tell who's one of his own kind." Then he added a not so convinced "_I think ..._"

Dean glanced into the rearview mirror another time, trying to catch a glimpse at the nephilim, but all he saw were closed eyes and even breaths that fogged the window. Though he could tell that the man wasn't asleep.

"Sam? - How're you holding up?", he asked, flashing another concerned gaze into the mirror.

"'m fine.", Sam muttered and sniffed. "Just a headache."

The hunter stole a glance at his duffel on the passenger's seat and back into the mirror, to catch his angel-friend's gaze.

"There're some painkillers in my duffel.", he said, before he turned his focus back on the road before him.

* * *

The night was already dawning and he had to slow down. He couldn't bear to ruin his baby through bumping into a walker or a whole horde of them. It would take them definitely a while longer, since Dean planned to stop a couple of times, just so that Sam was able to stretch out his long legs, to catch some fresh air and to eat something.

Sam looked exhausted, drained. He looked like a cancer-patient short before his terminal stage. Okay, maybe not that bad at all, but he looked horrific.

"There're two water bottles in there too. Sam?", he glanced into the rearview mirror again. "You gotta drink."

"You drive, I'll take care of Sam, Dean." Castiel lunged forwards and grabbed the duffel, getting it onto the backseat.

Dean just huffed and sniffed, checking on the fields to his left, catching a glimpse of reflecting orbs in the high withered grass.

The wolf would need to take some rest soon too. No way the small scrawny guy would be able to hold the pace wich Dean was presenting.

_... to be continued_

* * *

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**THEY'RE KEEPIN' ME GOIN'!**


	21. Chapter 21 Taking A Break

_WARNING: tongue & teeth_

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 21 ~ Taking A Break**_

THEN:

_Sam looked exhausted, drained. He looked like a cancer-patient short before his terminal stage. Okay, maybe not that bad at all, but he looked horrific._

_"There're two water bottles in there too. Sam?", he glanced into the rearview mirror again. "You gotta drink."_

_"You drive, I'll take care of Sam, Dean." Castiel lunged forwards and grabbed the duffel, getting it onto the backseat._

_Dean just huffed and sniffed, checking on the fields to his left, catching a glimpse of reflecting orbs in the high withered grass._

_The wolf would need to take some rest soon too. No way the small scrawny guy would be able to hold the pace wich Dean was presenting._

* * *

NOW:

It was in the middle of the night. Dean glanced at the speedometer once more, then at the mileage. They would need to fill up on gas soon again. Gladly they had taken two jerrycans with them when they last stopped at an abandoned gas station.

And hell, they had been lucky enough yet, hadn't they? These days, barely someone was able to get a hold on gas that easy. Most of the gas stations were raided and the golden liquid had been stolen. So not this one.

Yes. They indeed had been a bunch of lucky idjits.

About five hundred miles down the road, and about thousand-one-hundred miles to go until they'd be home again.

The hunter's eye-lids were getting heavier with every mile-stone they passed, the monotone landscape and the road before him didn't make it any better. Usually they should've holed up somewhere before nightfall. But their special circumstances didn't allow such a luxury.

So he just got went on driving.

Now it was about time to take a break. To let the engine cool down and get some _much_ _needed_ sleep before they'd hit the road again. Besides ... he wanted to check on Sam personally. Wanted to crawl into the backseat and cuddle up with him.

No, Dean Winchester would never admit to anyone else that he actually thought about _cuddling_. No way. Not with a person. Not with an animal. Hell, not even with a pillow.

But he started to change, didn't he? He at least allowed himself to THINK about it. To admit to himself that he needed the closeness (at least to Sam).

Far and wide no damn house or cabin in sight to hole up. So he drove some more, trying to hold his eyes open. But it was no use. When he napped in for the second time in a row, letting Sam and Cas bolting upright in their seats, nearly landing in a ditch, he decided that he have had enough.

That even if he didn't want to, he had to take a break.

He was done for the night.

So he pulled off the street and parked his baby on the dirt road, killing the engine. He then leaned back and stretched his aching muscles, glancing back over his shoulder to get a last glimpse at his two friends in the backseat, before he turned off the lights.

"Finally.", Castiel sighed hoarsely.

The very next moment a wet snout was pressed up against the window on the passenger's seat from the outside and a low whine was heard.

With a sigh, Dean leaned over and opened the door on the passenger's side, letting the overgrown scrawny dog in. It licked over the hunter's face with a happy whine. It then tried to get somehow comfortable ... but it wouldn't work. The dog was to big for the seat beside Dean.

So they had to find a new seat-arrangement. After what seemed like an endless eternity, they had found it then.

Castiel lay down sprawled out over the passenger's seat and the driver's seat, covered with two jackets.

The werewolf found his place on the floor between the front-seats and the backseat.

Dean sat with his back leaning against the rear-door, a blanket around his shoulders, legs sprawled out over the backseat.

Sam sat with his back leaning against the hunter's chest, his head resting in the crook of his neck, legs pulled towards his chest and also covered with a thick blanket.

That was how they held out until the first rays of sunlight spread over the land, warming the insides of the car slightly, as it was chilly on the outside.

The first one to wake up was the werewolf, the rumbling of his stomach announcing that it was time to hunt. The wolf-like form licked and lapped at Sam's fingers and hands with his warm, wet tongue.

Until Sam finally stirred and groaned and let the wolf out. When Sam leaned back against the hunter again, Dean wrapped his arms around him and tugged him back under the blankets with a disapproving groan.

Sam turned around in his position, burying the side of his face into the hunter's chest, listening to the calm and soothing heartbeat, trying to hold the more and more noticable getting headache at bay.

Soon the both of them dozed off again into a light sleep.

* * *

When Dean woke up again, he couldn't remember that he let the wolf back into the car. As his eyes fluttered open and looked around, he noticed that they were back on the road and driving. A short glance at the driver's seat revealed a stoned angel, gripping the steering-wheel hard.

"It is about time." Castiel glanced into the rearview-mirror and caught the hunter's gaze for a moment. "When Garth came back from his hunt, he woke me and told me about a horde of walkers coming our way.", he started to explain. "I thought I should get us a bit further away before we have our breakfast?"

Dean groaned and closed his eyes again for a brief second, laying his hand back on the younger man's head in his arms.

"Yeah ... okay ... just stay on the road.", The hunter grumbled gruffly and scrunched up his nose at the odd smell of wet dog in his baby.

* * *

What was about half an hour later, they stopped on the side of the road. Sam was already up and barely holding back his overfilled bladder at that point. Once the car had slowed down and came to a hold, Sam had slammed open the door and had hurried outside to release the uncomfortable pressure.

The three of them stretched and groaned, as they were able to get their aching muscles to work again after dozens of hours crouched into a car.

Dean and Castiel got three small tins from the trunk, opening them.

"Garth's hunting his own food." Castiel thrust one of the tins into Sam's hands as he returned from the bush. "He said we'd meat up wherever we stop."

Dean sniffed, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold.

Sam took a giant swig from the can with cold baked beans, chewing the soft parts gingerly, as he leaned against the hood of the Impala. Dean joined him, holding his can tightly, his other hand resting – like always – on the gun in his holster, always a watchful eye on their surroundings.

Sam stole a glance at Dean right then, when he nipped at his can, forcing his gaze back at the horizon before him.

A moment later, Dean looked at Sam intently for an even longer moment.

"You like what you're staring at?", Sam cocked at eyebrow and threw the can away, turning towards the hunter with a mischievous grin.

Dean chuckled and blushed slightly, wiping over his mouth, all of a sudden nervous. He looked aside and back at Sam, who was still looking at him.

His hazel-eyes even brighter in broad daylight. His dimples even cuter than he could remember.

"Always _like_ what's worth to stare at, baby boy." The hunter wore his most charming, cocky grin as the words spilled out of his mouth.

Now it was Sam's turn to look aside and blush shyly, though more intensely.

"I know I said that a lot of times already ... but ... I am sorry – you know." He bit down on his lower lip. "I ... I -"

"Yes. You already told me a couple of times, hunter." He looked back up at Dean, hi gaze wandering from toe to tip over him.

"So ... do I get another chance? To make it all right?" It actually didn't take a lot to get the words out. Actually it had been easy, despite the danger of rejection that could possibly come with his question.

The hunter's eyes looked like the greenest forest he had ever seen in his entire life.

Sam tore his gaze away from the hunter and stared at the ground with a huff. When he looked back up, he looked hurt and ashamed and _torn_ ...

"Who says, that you won't push me away again?" Sam sniffed, remembering their last encounter in the bunker, the night before he left. The shame, the words that still burned deep inside him and hurt so bad. Worse than the things that anyone had ever said to him. _The way_ it had been said to him. Coming from a person he actually liked. Even more than just liked. Maybe loved.

He looked back up, catching Dean's gaze. A grim expression on his face, the despair mixed with anger about himself.

Instead of uttering any more words, Dean let the can slip from his fingers and turned around, moving, so that he was standing in front of Sam. Just a matter of inches between the both of them ...

"Because I won't.", he whispered, locking his eyes with the younger man's ones. "Because that's what I want."

And then everything happened in slow motion for Sam. He felt a hand on his hip, slipping under his hoodie and shirt, so that Dean's hand laid on the waistband of his jeans. The other hand covering the back of his head, pulling him down.

He felt the hunter's warm exhale against his lips, who gave him another moment to pull away. But Sam didn't. He couldn't.

The hunter brushed with his soft cushions over Sam's before he sealed them over his, pulling Sam even closer, waiting for Sam to respond.

But he just stood there – frozen – for a long moment, before the tension faded away and he leaned into Dean, going all smooth and soft and finally kissed him back.

The hunter guided his tongue over the seam of Sam's lower lip, before he dared to push forward and enter him.

And Sam gave in. _He let him._ He let the hunter explore his teeth, his tongue, hell his whole mouth, as he wrapped his arms around the slightly shorter man. Sam let him have everything, relishing the moment to get what he had dreamed of for the bigger part of his life: _To be loved. _

When they parted they were breathless. Their lips bruised and pink, their bodies trembling slightly, their skin over sensitive to each other's touch.

"When you are done exchanging your bodily fluids, we should get back on the road. - Garth's ready. - So do the walkers." Castiel pointed towards small looking walking figures in the distance.

Both men turned their attention towards the direction where Castiel's finger was pointing to.

"Let's get goin'.", Dean breathed, searching the younger man's flushed face for any signs of discomfort about what just had happened.

Sam couldn't meet his gaze right then for a second, just daring to blink at the older man shyly, before he nodded and twisted away from Dean's grip to get seated in the backseat again.

* * *

Twenty hours, one of Sam's flashbacks and about a thousand hundred miles later they pulled into the giant garage of the bunker, a big wolf with scruffy fur short on their wheels.

The heavy door of steel shut automatically behind them.

"We're home.", Dean informed his friends and emerged from the car with stiff movements. He straightened up and stretched his limps from him, flexing the aching muscles in his back.

Castiel was already out of the car and popped the trunk open, when the hunter opened the rear-door and squat down beside it, eying the pale man in the seat.

"Sammy. - We're here.", he said gently, cupping the man's left cheek in his hand.

The man's eyes fluttered open lazily and remained on half-mast, daring to fall shut again. "Hurts.", he muttered, as he leaned into the hunter's gentle touch.

"I know. - We'll take you to your room and get you some of the nice stuff, so that you can relax, okay?" He tried to keep his words as light as possible, brushing with his thump over Sam's cheekbone. "Sounds good, doesn't it?"

Sam gave him a weak nod.

Dean frowned at him concerned, pursing his lips pensively. Sam wouldn't be able to make it to his room. Maybe it would be better anyway, if he'd stay somewhere closer to them.

"You think you can do something for me?" The hunter licked unconsciously over his lower lip.

Sam gave him another nod.

"Can you try to take a few steps? - Just into the library and then we'll take a break there, get some decent food and water into you?"

Sam gave him another nod. "I'll try."

That was all he could ask for, Dean figured. "That's fine with me. - We just have to get there and I'll do the rest."

Sam's eyes were about to flutter shut.

"Hey, no sleeping yet." Dean rose to his feet and leaned in, easing his arm around Sam's shoulders, while he guided the man's long legs out of the car. "Just a couple of feet, okay? - I promise."

Sam nodded.

He put all the strength that he had left after the last flashback into his legs, one arm slung around his middle, the other one around the hunter's shoulder as they started to make their way to the elevator that would lead them a level higher.

Sam barely made it out of there, when his weakness got the overhand and his legs started to feel heavier as ever before.

Though he wasn't alone. Dean held him close, held him upright as good as he could before Sam's knees were able to give into the weight of his body.

The very next moment, a completely naked Garth was on his other side, slinging his scrawny arm around the taller man's lower back.

They made their way into the library with pain and misery, rather carrying than walking Sam over to the couch, where they settled him down.

"Kevin?!", Dean called out, "Jo?!"

The hunter let Sam lie down on the couch, tugging the long legs into a halfway comfortable looking position. A pillow was given to him, and Dean lifted the younger man's head gently, letting it back down onto the soft pillow. He brushed strains of chestnut-brown hair out of Sam's face and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Is it okay? Are you comfortable like this?" Dean trailed with his fingers over Sam's temple and cheek, down over jaw and neck, until he found the place, where Sam's rabid pulse hammered strongly against his fingertips.

Sam gave him a tired nod.

"Good. - Now rest. I'll get you something to eat and drink.", Dean was about to leave, as he felt long fingers wrapped around his wrist, wich held him back.

"No ...", Sam breathed, "Please ... _stay_ ..."

"I can prepare something, Dean. - Just tell me where the kitchen is." Garth looked around the room, obviously stunned that there was electricity and probably so much more he didn't know about yet. "But ...", he trailed off and looked down on himself. "It doesn't happen that you might have some clothes for me somewhere?"

That was when Castiel came, tossing a back pack and two duffel-bags on the floor beside one of the pillars that marked the entrance from the main hall into the library. "I'll show you.", the angel said and winked at the wereman to follow him.

After a moment of being torn to stay with Sam and going to help preparing a proper meal for the sick man, he squat down beside the couch and guided Sam's hand down, so that it got to rest on his stomach.

A full-body-shiver cursed through Sam and his eyes fluttered shut, shifting into a more comfortable position on the couch, still facing Dean.

"What ... what changed your mind?", Sam asked after a long while of silence.

"Huh?" Dean looked up.

"'bout me."

"It was never about you." Dean sniffed and rubbed over his face. "I just had to convince myself that it's okay. That I'm allowed to feel what I feel when I am around you." He frowned, watching Sam's face closely as he watched his. "I ... I kind of liked you from the very moment I saw you the first time, you know?" Dean cleared his throat. "I just couldn't stand the thought to lose someone else I love ... I've lost so many friends, Sam." He blinked and down before he gazed back up again. "I didn't want to have another person on my list that dies because of me."

Sam swallowed. "That's all? - That's why you pushed me away? Why you said those things?", his voice hoarse and barely a whisper anymore.

Dean huffed and nodded embarrassed. For him it had been enough of a reason to act like he had been acting. Now that he thought about it, he felt stupid. _So stupid._

"A part of me thought it's better you're pissed at me, than gettin' hurt because I wasn't able to protect you ..." The hunter looked at him bitterly.

"Don't make choices for others, hunter." The younger man shifted his head slightly and winced at the throbbing pain in his skull that flared up with every move he made. "Let the others choose to be a part of your life. - I'm sure they know what they're dealing with." He chuckled weakly.

Dean chuckled with him. "You go and shut your mouth.", He waved a hand on him. "Take some rest before food's ready. - I've to go and check on Jo and Kev."

Sam moaned and his eyes fluttered shut, as he couldn't hold the darkness at bay any longer.

_... to be continued_

* * *

_sooo ... now that they kissed & start to get happy ... what could possibly go wrong anymore? ^^_

_A LOT. _


	22. Chapter 22 Something New

For all the snugglers out there ;D

Oh, and I managed to proofread this chapter, as you guys can see.

Hope you'll enjoy & leave a review :)

further: 

It's not fix yet, but I may have to go to hospital for a couple of days.

So if you don't see any new update, i'm high likely not at home. But I will update as soon as I can again.

PROMISE

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 22 ~ Something New**_

THEN:

_"Don't make choices for others, hunter." The younger man shifted his head slightly and winced at the throbbing pain in his skull that flared up with every move he made. "Let the others choose to be a part of your life. - I'm sure they know what they're dealing with." He chuckled weakly._

_Dean chuckled with him. "You go and shut your mouth.", He waved a hand on him. "Take some rest before food's ready. - I've to go and check on Jo and Kev."_

_Sam moaned and his eyes fluttered shut, as he couldn't hold the darkness at bay any longer._

* * *

NOW:

Dean had found the both of them in the basement, interrogating the demon they had captured all these months before Sam had taken off.

To his surprise, the old bearded gruff hunter was with them, splashing holy water at the beaten up man in the middle of the dungeon, bound with demon-proof shackles to a wooden chair and a devil's trap surrounding him.

Due the Winchester's arrival, they left the demon on his own and went upstairs with him.

"So, Sam's doin' okay?", Kevin climbed the last few steps and opened the heavy iron-door that led into the corridor wich would lead them into the main-hall.

"He's having flashbacks ...", he looked at Jo as he said that.

The blonde woman frowned concerned. "How bad?"

"Pretty bad.", Dean said, as they let the threshold that led into the corridor behind them, keeping the lead on the small troop. "What about the demon?", he asked, when Bobby closed up to him and was walking beside the younger hunter. "Something useful?"

The old man huffed and shook his head. "Nah. - He'd rather spill his guts than tellin' anything."

When they entered the library they fell silent, all eyes on the dozing man on the couch. Jo walked past the three men and kneeled down beside it, laying her hand on Sam's forehead and closing her eyes.

"Oh no.", she muttered with a deepening frown on her forehead.

"What is it?" Dean was on her side the very next moment.

Jo sat back and blinked up over her shoulder, glancing at the hunter. "It's not that bad. - Nothing I can't fix in time. - Might as well it'll take a bit longer, since there's already some damage done."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Damage? What kind of damage?"

"Nothing I haven't seen before. - Some of us are taking it easier to remember. For some it's traumatic. Depends on what ranks _they_ had, depends of what _they_ suffered and how they were dealing with it." Jo tried to hold her explanation as short as possible. "It's complex, Dean. - There are so many aspects to watch out for ...", she trailed off and pulled her hand back. "Maybe the angel or the demon, or even both didn't like what happened past there. Maybe they didn't want to follow the other's orders. - Now the experiences of hundreds of years of fighting and dying are crashing down on him each time the memories come back. - Mixed up with those he was forced to forget due his treatment in the hospital ..." She bit down on her lower lip.

"So ... shit's hitting the fan?" Dean's concerned gaze wandered over to Sam and back to her.

"I'd rather like to start right now ... but ... he might should eat something before, even if he has no appetite." She took in the thin man before her. "When has the last flashback been?"

Dean cleared his throat. "About two hours ago ... short before we got here."

She nodded to herself and got back on her feet. "Okay, so I guess we've some time before another one. - Might as well we should sedate him for that. What I'm going to do is very uncomfortable ... and Sam ... in his state ..." She blinked at Dean. "He doesn't have to be awake for that."

The hunter nodded pensively and looked down at the sleeping man. "If we can make it easier on him ... why not."

She gave him a short nod. "Where's the angel?"

"Kitchen. - With Garth.", he muttered and sat down on the coffee-table in front of the couch. "Getting something to eat for us."

"Garth? Who is Garth?" Kevin frowned curiously at the hunter.

"Long story. - I'll tell y'all later.", was all Dean had to say about it. He had bigger worries at the moment than filling them in on what had happened. Main-thing was that Sam was back and that he'd get the help he needed desperately.

* * *

Half an hour later there was a bowl of soup and bread on a tray on the coffee-table in front of the couch.

Sam sat there, with the hunter by his side.

"You want to do what?", Sam asked Jo, who sat across from him on the table. "I'd rather not like to be sedated while you do your thing, Jo ..."

"Yeah ... I know that, Sam. - But it's no use to make it worse than it is already, you know? It's stressing your body and could worsen the damage that's already done ..." She paused. "I just want to be on the save side on that. And we do have the resources to do it properly."

The nephilim nodded and blew out a shuddering breath.

"And after that, you'll probably feel like you've the flu. But it'll go away. You'll remember EVERYTHING then. No flashbacks anymore, no seizures.", she explained calmly. "You'll be just fine."

Sam frowned, eying her warily. "You've done that frequently didn't you?", it was more of a declarative statement.

She smiled reassuring. "It's been a while ... but yeah."

"Sounds good, Sammy, doesn't it?" Dean laid his hand on Sam's thigh and squeezed gently, giving him a soft smile when he looked at him. "You'll be fine. - I'll take care of you, I swear."

Sam nudged the hunter with the elbow and leaned against him. "Okay. - What do I do?"

"You're going to eat something and drink, so that the medication won't make you sick. When you're asleep I will start, and when you wake up the next time everything should be in the right place again." No one could say no to those big brown eyes of the young lady. No one could possibly mistrust them.

Sam shared a short look with the hunter before he nodded and leaned forward to grab the bowl of luke-warm potato-soup and the piece of bread. He stirred in the bowl with the spoon for a bit, before he tipped the bread into it and took a bite.

Slowly but surely, the young man emptied the bowl until nothing was left besides a few crumbs of bread. Dean watched him carefully for the entire time.

Jo had left the both on their own, getting Sam's room ready. She lighted white thick candles and burned herbs, so that everything would be ready when they arrived.

The hunter patted Sam's back carefully and helped him up, holding him tight as he swayed when they made their way back into Sam's old room.

The young man looked around. Nothing had actually changed, except the candles ... and the charge he had left for the hunter. The jar with the silver necklaces and the coins in it ... it still stood on the cupboard on the wall across from the bed.

A small smile played over Sam's face as his look fell on it. "You kept it?", Sam asked surprised.

The corners of Dean's lips traveled upwards. "Thought you might want to have it back when I found you ..."

Sam flashed the hunter one of his brightest warm smiles, as he let himself being led to the bed and guided down. "You'll stay?", the young man asked insecurely and Dean nodded.

"Sure. There's no other place I'd rather be." He smiled softly, brushing over Sam's jaw and leaned over him, brushing his lips over the younger man's ones. "Relax.", he whispered against tender cushions.

Sam closed his eyes and pressed his mouth over Dean's, returning the gentle kiss. "See you then.", he whispered, and settled back into the pillow.

The hunter sat down beside the bed into a chair and leaned back, watching Jo closely, as she set an I.V. Port into Sam's left elbow and inserted the clear liquid from the syringe. "You'll feel drowsy in a couple of moments.", Jo informed him quietly. "Don't fight it. - We're here. We'll look out for you."

Dean leaned forward, when the woman stepped aside and took Sam's hand in his. "I'm here, baby boy. I'll be here when you wake up."

Jo put the empty syringe onto the nightstand and walked around the bed, laying onto it. She then took Sam's left hand in her's and took a couple of deep inhales.

"You have to let him go for this, Dean.", she said as she stared at the ceiling above her and closed her eyes.

Dean did as he was told, letting go of the younger man's hand hesitantly.

For the hunter there was nothing spectacular to watch. Both, Sam and Jo looked like they were fast asleep, as the minutes passed by like hours. And he started to get restless and worried. Though, Jo had said nothing about how long this would take.

Worse than that was, that he wasn't allowed to touch Sam in any way, while Jo was in his head, doing god knew what. - Though she would fix him. She had practicaly promised that, _hadn't she_? So what could possibly go wrong?

Dealing with a flu – if that was the only aftermath – wasn't as bad as dealing with a death-sick Sam. It'd break the hunter's heart, would destroy him completely. This time probably permanently.

After half an hour (Dean had a close eye on how much time passed), Sam's fingers and legs began to twitch, his face laid in lines of distress and what seemed like pain.

Dean glanced at Jo for a brief moment. She laid completely still, her features relaxed. No signs of distress on HER face.

Time passed unbelievably slow for the hunter, since he could do nothing but sit and watch.

He felt useless – _unbelievable useless_.

* * *

Another hour passed, before one of the both of them showed signs of awakening. Jo was first, since Sam remained under drug-inducted sleep.

"Jo?" The hunter sat up straight in the very moment the woman's eyes flew open.

She sat up on the bed and let go from Sam's hand. "It's done. - He's as good as new.", with a tired smile she got up from the bed. "Sam's gonna wake when he's ready, Dean. - Don't push it. He's comin' around."

As she attempted to leave the room, the hunter jumped to his feet. "Where are you going?" As if: _You can't leave him alone, what if he needs you again?_

She just smiled and sighed. "I'm tired. - I go and get some sleep. So ... don't wake me for dinner."

His gaze followed her helplessly until she was gone and he remained alone with the young sleeping man on the bed. For a moment he stood there and stared at Sam. Then he looked around the room.

Dean went to blow out the candles and then laid down beside Sam, pulling the comforter over the both of them and inched closer to the younger man's side.

Dean watched him for a long while, his hand resting on the man's chest, feeling the even rise and fall of his ribcage. "It's gonna be okay. - You're gonna be just fine when you wake up. - Just like a flu, Sammy.", he murmured silently into his ear. Not sure if he wanted to reassure Sam or himself by it. "You're gonna be fine. You'll see."

* * *

Of course it wasn't all fine. It took Sam longer to wake up as Jo had thought he would. In fact he had slept close to two days, and when he finally woke up he was beyond confused. He tossed around, hitting Dean pretty hard in the ribs with his flying arms.

Though, the hunter wouldn't mention it once. He was just glad that Sam HAD woken up, and that he looked better as he had before.

The hunter didn't yell at him, didn't bitch slap him. He stayed calm and talked gently to Sam. He stroke his soft hair, his arms, his face, reassuring him with quiet words that it was okay, that he was fine, that all this was just because he had been sick ...

He did that until Sam settled down and dozed off again.

When the young man woke the next time he seemed more lucid, but tired.

Dean managed to get a whole bottle of water into him and a cup of coffee to get his circulatory-system back on track, since his blood pressure had been too low. Sam even had talked a bit, had babbled along about demons and angels and a giant war. That he had died so many times that he had lost count. That he haven't wanted that fight – none of them and though they had obeyed.

And Sam felt bad about it, as if it had been the greatest betrayal ever.

And Dean reassured him that it wasn't his fault, not a bit. That HE had been born the way he was, that he wouldn't have to feel guilty about anything.

And Sam just nodded tiredly and slipped away into another deep sleep of recovery.

* * *

Two days later, and Sam had his nuts back together. Though he seemed depressed and sad and exhausted.

Sam sat up in the bed and inched backwards, until he was leaning against the headboard, resting his head in between his knees. He didn't even bother to look up, when the door to the room opened slowly and Dean emerged with a tray in his hands. There were two plates and two glasses with a watery-red fluid in them. God knew where the hunter had gotten that from again. - Maybe he had taken one of the sirups from the storage that were meant to be saved up until christmas or one of them celebrated their birthday ...

What didn't make Sam feel any better. Because he knew their resources were limited.

Dean didn't bother about that as much.

"Hey baby boy.", he greeted the younger man and sat down on the free half of the bed, scooting backwards until he was leaning against the headboard beside Sam.

He looked up and smiled tiredly, as he leaned against the hunter's shoulder. "Hey, Dean." He exhaled audibly. "That looks awesome."

Dean chuckled and sniffed, rubbing over his nose, while he balanced the tray with one hand on his lap.

"The Miller's traded some of their rasperry-syrup in." Dean smiled proudly.

"You don't have to ... I'd drink water too, you know that." Sam reminded the hunter silently. "And you didn't traded the sirup with the Millers. - I saw it in the storage room right beside the peaches, when I took the cans back then. It was already there."

Dean sighed. "Okay ... so it was there. - I didn't lie. Cas traded it a couple of months ago for a bag of sweet chestnuts." He seemed offended all of a sudden, the hurt well defined in his voice.

"Hey, I didn't mean it, okay? I just don't want you to go for the special reserves because of me ... it wouldn't be fair ...", Sam trailed off and was about to pull back, getting some distance between Dean and him, but the hunter wrapped an arm around his shoulders and held him close.

"WE decided to open up the bottle with rasberry-sirup. Because WE care about you, Sam. I am not mistaken when I say that you look like a stick under all these layers of clothes, am I?" Dean was serious, even when he seemed to try to lighten the mood about the topic. "Until you're up to the weight you used to have, you're gettin' everything we have. - It's passed unanimously. So get over it and eat before your eggs are gettin' cold, Sammy."

"I'm not lookin' that bad.", the younger man muttered with a stubborn expression in his eyes, as he stared at the scrambled eggs.

Usually they would've had Oatmeal. Like before he had left. Now, since he was back, there were a lot other things – just no oatmeal anymore. Okay, it were just a couple of days. Though it was unusual.

And the last thing Sam wanted was, that they would do things just because of him. Alone the thought about that made him even less hungry. He knew what food was worth these days. He knew that it was more worth than gold, silver and brass, or anything else.

So yes. He felt _bad_.

"Don't look like that, Sam.", Dean said serious. "I know what you're thinkin' and it's not true." He stuffed a spoon full with scrambled eggs into his mouth and chewed them slowly, relishing the taste of something rare like eggs. "Now eat. - I'm gonna help you into the bathtub later. Don't think you're up for a shower yet.", he said as he chewed his eggs and on a piece of buttered bread.

The eggs truly tasted amazing, as Sam had to admit. He hadn't had something like that in a long time. Well not exactly. Garth had brought along eggs from wild birds every now and then. Like he had done with the meat. The guy was one great hunter when he was in his wolf's form. Actually he was a pretty bad one, when he wore his human outfit ... He didn't even knew how to handle a gun.

When they had scraped their plates clean and had emptied their raspberry-sodas, Sam was done. Exhausted. As if he had climbed a mountain.

He blew out a shuddering breath and rubbed over his tummy under the comforter, as he inched back down and rolled to his side that the feeling of being stuffed wouldn't be that intensive. Sam wasn't used to eat that much. Hell, the past two weeks he had been lucky when Garth's soups and the water staid down.

Dean glanced down at the younger man worriedly, his eyes narrowing. "Wanna take a nap before the bath?", he asked concerned.

Sam just nodded and a loud burp wrenched its way up his throat and over his lips.

"You gonna be sick?" All of a sudden the hunter seemed high alert. ... Maybe eggs with buttered bread hadn't been such a good idea, even when Sam's serving had been just the half of the size of his own.

Sam shook his head. "No. - I'm just full.", he muttered into the pillow. "Guess my stomach has to get used to eat solid food again ..."

Actually there was still this demon in the basement, wich needed special treatment. And Dean had planned to go down there and practice some of the things he had learned under Alistair's hand ... But then he looked at the man beside him, half curled up, rubbing his stomach ...

The hunter inched down beside Sam. "Turn over.", he said.

"Nah. Can't." Another moan. Sam's stomach already started to cramp.

"You can. C'mon. Turn on the other side.", it was an order, but gentle. "I'll give you a belly rub.", he said jokingly.

"'m not a dog.", Sam gave back, but turned around anyway, so that he was facing towards the bathroom-door.

The younger man felt Dean's chest against his back and an arm finding its way over to his belly. Ever so gentle, the hunter's warm hand found its way under three layers of shirts and on the small bulge of Sam's stomach. He then started to brush gentle circles over it.

Sam moaned comfortably.

"That better?", the hunter asked.

"Yeah. - Much better." Sam pressed his back up against Dean. "So good ...", he muttered and closed his eyes.

Dean chuckled and kissed the back of Sam's neck, as he drew a circle with his index finger around the man's navel, feeling the soft curly hair that led further down under his waistband.

The hunter tried to ignore his twitching manhood, wich started to strain against its denim-prison.

"You think ... you can handle yourself in the meantime? - 'til I get back? I've some things to take care of ...", his voice was hoarse all of a sudden, as he inched back, getting some distance between himself and Sam, so that he hopefully wouldn't notice the hunter's physical changes.

A mischievous smile spread over Sam's face. "No ... stay ... _please_ ..." He knew exactly why the hunter had something better to do. Not that he thought that Dean would lay a hand on him. It was more that he thought it was cute. That the hunter would try to hide his straining erection from him, even when he knew what he was and had done before.

"Sam ..." It sounded pleading.

Sam held onto the hunter's hand wich had stopped to massage his belly, so he couldn't take it away from him. "You know ... back then ... I saw all these people ...", he started to explain, "... and I knew who they were. Deep down, I knew if they were REAL people. I didn't understand what was happening to me when I was a kid. I was so afraid." He sighed, diving back into the memories when he had been just a child, before everything went down and ended up in the psychiatric ward. "I thought I'm a freak." He chuckled. "And I am. - I'm not even human ..." Sam opened his eyes. "I just ... I don't know ... I saw their real faces. And now ... now I know that I saw demons. And Angels. - And ... and monsters." He closed his eyes when Dean started to brush gentle circles along his stomach again. "Would I have told my mom about the dreams back then. - That I saw the shadows pushing our car from the street ... Would I've told them what I dreamed ... - maybe they would be still alive ..."

Then there was silence. - Dean actually didn't know what to say about that. Partly Sam was probably right, but that wasn't what he could tell him right now. Then again ... maybe his parents wouldn't have believed him anyway. Who would've believed a kid that said it had dreamed about shadows in the night, that tried to push a car from the road?

"You can't change what happened back then, Sam." Finally Dean found words again. He sighed deeply and settled back close to Sam, as if to support him, giving him something to lean on. The hunter rested his forehead against the top of Sam's head and closed his eyes.

"They wouldn't even have a reason to be proud of me, Dean. - What I become ... it's ... it's-"

"You survived, Sam. SURVIVED.", Dean didn't let him continue, because he already knew what he was going to say, "That's everything that matters to parents. - Trust me on this. They'd be happy to see you alive and healthy. No matter what you've done before, what you ARE. I won't let you go down that road." He sounded reassuring and if he surely knew Sam would never have to go on a strip again. "You're mine now. - No one else gets you but me. Ever again. - No demons, no angels ... and especially no more jobs that involve you gettin' on your knees."

_... to be continued_

* * *

**okay ... next chapter: BATHTUB-SCENE (for those who are waiting for it) ;)**


	23. Chapter 23 Of Bathrooms And Dungeons

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 23 ~ Of Bathrooms And Dungeons**_

THEN:

_"They wouldn't even have a reason to be proud of me, Dean. - What I become ... it's ... it's-"_

_"You survived, Sam. SURVIVED.", Dean didn't let him continue, because he already knew what he was going to say, "That's everything that matters to parents. - Trust me on this. They'd be happy to see you alive and healthy. No matter what you've done before, what you ARE. I won't let you go down that road." He sounded reassuring and if he surely knew Sam would never have to go on a strip again. "You're mine now. - No one else gets you but me. Ever again. - No demons, no angels ... and especially no more jobs that involve you gettin' on your knees."_

* * *

NOW:

Dean smiled, resting his chin on top of Sam's head as they lay together. The younger man had fallen asleep just moments ago in his arms, his head resting in the crook of the hunter's neck. He tugged him closer some more and pulled the comforter over Sam's shoulders and up over his neck.

First he had thought, that finding Sam would be the biggest of his problems – _at first_. But he hadn't thought about the things that came after.

The Winchester had thought it would be easier. - But now he started to realize, that getting Sam back (somehow) wasn't that much of a problem. The problem was Dean himself. The need deep inside him to pull back, when the younger man snuggled into him. At first it hadn't bothered him – not in the least. Maybe because the hunter HAD TO show his affection. But now, that he had Sam's attention and the way he looked at him, how he smiled, the things he said ...

It felt for him like it was about time to draw back again. And in the same heartbeat he knew, that he couldn't, that he didn't want to. That this was, what he actually wanted. Really WANTED. He wanted to be WITH Sam. - Not just because of the way he looked (because HELL, he was an Adonis to say the least). He wanted to be WITH Sam, because he liked him – probably even more ... LOVED him. But as the Winchester he was, he couldn't allow himself to think that far yet. Letting alone say it out loud.

Sam was actually the first person in his life he wanted to spend time with (in this case not to have sex). He was the first man with whom he actually didn't NEED to have sex with ... Alone the thought forced a violent shiver up the hunter's spine. Like Sam was too precious to fuck and then drop. The hunter couldn't believe what he was thinking right now ...

Dean cursed himself on this, but he truly WANTED a relationship with this man ... and then again ...

Yeah, it wasn't easy on him, to say the least.

* * *

The hunter glanced at the watch again.

Sam slept now since thirty minutes. Dean had eased his body out under Sam a while before, watching him closely now to see if he had noticed. If he'd wake up when the hunter would leave him ...

And Sam didn't.

SO after another couple of minutes staring creepy at a sleeping guy, Dean got up carefully, grabbing the tray and left the room, letting the door slightly agape. He then made his way into the kitchen, where Castiel and Jo were about to clean the dishes.

Garth had gone out to HUNT, so they'd get flesh on the table again.

Bobby was in the basement, interrogating the demon further, while Kevin had gone to get some more sleep after breakfast. The young man had spent most of the night in front of the angel-tablet translating.

The hunter poured himself another mug of coffee in and emptied it slowly, while he watched his angel-friend and Jo for quite some time. And he wouldn't have been a Winchester if he wouldn't have sensed that there was something up between the both of them.

The way, the nephilim looked up with love-filled big brown eyes and Cas looking back down at her ... the way she nudged him with the shoulder and stepped closer to him every now and then.

Had Dean missed something?

Anyway ... good for them, wasn't it? He had other stuff to do ... in the _basement_. So, when he had emptied the mug, he headed streight downstairs, preparing himself mentally for what he was going to do. - For what he was PLANNING to do, while he laid beside Sam, holding him in his arms.

He did this for HIM, for JO, for humanity (at least he told himself that he was doing it because of it).

Dean Winchester would torture the demon until he HAD answers. Because he KNEW that the demon knew something. He just wouldn't spill. So he had to make him ... with everything he had.

He pulled the shelves apart and stepped forward, seeing the seasoned hunter loom over the bound demon-possessed vessel.

"Ahhh, the Winchester finally arrived.", the demon taunted with a mock grin on his split lips. "Wanna show the old man how to make me spill my guts?"

Dean didn't say a thing. His features changed into hard lines, his back straight, his shoulders broad and tense. The hunter's eyes had changed in the very second he had laid his hands on the shelves, into something dangerous, feral ...

Instead of even looking at the black-eyed bastard, Dean walked over to the iron-table at the wall to his left and picked up the bucket, wich seemed to be filled with water. He reached in and fished the rosary out, tossing it on the table.

Bobby backed away, watching the younger hunter carefully. So far he just had been told about that expression on Dean's face, but had never had the opportunity to see it with his own eyes. And now that he did ... he wasn't sure if he knew the boy anymore.

Without even looking at the demon, the hunter grabbed the bucket with both hands and lunged out with it, emptying the whole content all over the demon's head and chest.

It sizzled and smoked and pained yells echoed through the basement and upstairs, where Castiel and Jo shared a wide-eyed glance. May the woman didn't know, but the angel did. He had seen the look on Dean's face. Had seen the determination, the anger. That had been the moment that the angel had known. That there was no way out for the demon. Either spill or gettin' exorcised and sent back to hell.

The last time (what was about a month back), Dean had told their captive that he heard rumours about a demon, being hold by a hunter. Of course there was no such thing, but how should the demon know?

So their captive had to assume, that IF the hunter would exorcise him and send him back to hell, they instantly would know that it was HIM who was being held captive by a hunter (at least Dean hoped so). What meant that he'd get back on the rack. Because the demons in hell had to think, that he had revealed details of their plan.

Why Dean Winchester knew about all of this? How it worked in hell?

Because once he had been one of them. Once he had tortured and punishes souls and disobedient demons. He had been tought by the best. _Alistair_.

That was a fact most of the demons knew ...

"Well." Dean wore a cold smile with a dangerous spark in his ever so green eyes, wich seemed now darker than ever before. "You know what I want, bitch. - You spill and I'll kill you. You don't spill and I'll exorcise you. No playing around anymore. Now or never."

The demon hissed at him.

"Fine." The Winchester went for the second bucket on the table and grabbed inside ...

* * *

It had been hours Dean Winchester had spent in the basement. Full four long hours, in wich muffled cries and pained yells where heard, interrupted by calm whispers of promised agony.

When Dean came back up from the basement he was spent, but seemed contented. Utterly satisfied to say the least.

His clothes covered in crimson and other dried and half-dried fluids. And he reeked.

Bobby followed him short behind, obviously trying to stop him, to talk to him. But the Winchester wouldn't listen.

When he passed Kevin, who sat on the big table in the middle of the library, he just told him that he got it. That he knew WHY the demons had been after Sam and that he could imagine now WHY the angels wanted their hands on a nephilim too.

Dean lifted his left hand, telling the seasoned hunter as much as "_not now_" and went streight for his bedroom with the words: "_Sam's waiting for me. - We'll talk later_."

Gladly they were in the bunker. Gladly they had the two remaining nephilims with them, safe and sound. They had no reason to hurry, nor did they have to jump into action right then.

So it wasn't too much to ask for getting a hot shower, cleaned up and fresh dressed, and spending some time with the person he had left on his own hours ago. For wich one he longed to check on.

But not in the state he was in. Not like this.

* * *

The hunter had spent half an hour under the hot-water-spray, relishing the advantage to do so, while most of the other left-over human beings hadn't the chance to even getting cleaned up on a regular basis.

When he was done, he crossed the corridor to Sam's room, opening the door slowly and lurking inside.

The younger man seemed still asleep, the slow rise and fall of the comforter told him so. Ever so silently he tip toed to the bed and sneaked under the covers, laying an arm over the curled up figure, nestling his hand in between the soft flannels and Sam's tender skin of his stomach. He then inched closer and tugged the younger man with his back against his chest, burying his nose in the shaggy long hair.

A comfortable moan rolled from Sam's throat as he felt a strong arm enveloping his middle, slipping under the soft fabric of his flannel. A small smile tugged on the taller man's lips as he felt the hunter's flat palm covering his belly.

Dean nuzzled into his neck. "It's close to noon, baby boy.", he whispered silently. "About time you wake up."

Sam sniffed. "I woke up already, but you weren't here.", he muttered, his voice husky from sleep.

He felt comfortable like this. Sam had never thought he would be able to snuggle and cuddle with someone EVER. That someone could make him feel valuable, accepted and loved.

He had always wanted just that. ALWAYS. Though he had thought that he could never have any of it, since his job was quite delicate.

Because who could love a whore? And there was no point in denying it, was there? He had been in this kind of business for about fifteen years. Had seen a lot of things ... Had learned a lot of things. He wasn't thinking about the sex here. He was thinking about people and how you could fool yourself about their characters.

That was why Sam wasn't quite sure what THIS was. Were they starting a relationship? Was it already a relationship?

Sure, Dean had explained himself. The why and wherefore.

And though ... there was still a part of him that couldn't quite believe the hunter's change. A part of him was still waiting for a full hundred-eighty turn and to get pushed away again.

Maybe there was something the hunter still needed from him ... maybe he shouldn't have come back here in the first place ...

"Why?" Sam's eyes fluttered open. Not sure for a moment if he had spoken out loud.

"Why what?", the hunter asked confused.

"Why would someone like you be coming for someone like me?" The younger man's hand found its way to Dean's and laid it over his. "I mean ... I know that I'm not just a whore. - I'm something demons and angels want. I know that. - But why? Why would someone like you want to spend time with someone like me?" Sam frowned pensively. "You know, you don't have to do that, huh? If you need something from me just spill ... Tell me what you want and don't ... just don't lie to me, okay? Don't do something you don't want to, just because you think ... you think you've to make it up to me or somethin'." Yeah, Sam knew he was babbling.

"You." Dean eased his arm under Sam's neck and turned him on his back, catching his gaze. "You.", he repeated seriously. "I want _you_. - There's nothing else. No information. No blood. No anything. - Just you and the promise that you won't take off again. No matter for what reasons." He paused. "The morning after you had disappeared ... I ... when I went into your room. I wanted to apologize. To explain myself to you. Tell you why I'm such an ass ... and you were _gone_. I couldn't tell you anything." The hunter sighed. "I wanted to BEG you to forgive me. - I wanted to ask you for a second chance, for a do-over." He never let Sam look away while he talked. "I had imagined so many ways it could've worked out. But I NEVER thought you'd run."

Sam tilted his head to the side, eying the hunter for a long moment. "You hurt me." He cast his look aside. "I thought I got hurt enough. That I don't have to look you in the eyes every single day and see the disgust written all over your face whenever you would even glance at me ..."

Dean blew out a deep breath. "I know I fucked that up, Sammy. - But trust me ... I'm not going to do that again. I'm not gonna push you away again ..." He stayed serious. No cocky grin, no mocking recommends. Just plain Dean Winchester without add ons.

Though the hunter could see the doubt in the younger man's eyes.

Sam _saw_ that the older man could sense his doubts ...

After a long awkward silence of staring, Dean cleared his throat. "Guess it's time to get up, huh?"

Sam just nodded.

"Still up for the bath?", he asked then, "Or lunch first?"

"Bath.", Sam answered after a brief second of thinking. He counted on his body that he would be too tired afterwards to even eat a single crumb. Not exactly something the hunter would appreciate, but though ... he couldn't eat right now ... not after what he had to think about. Wasn't Sam Campbell's life messed up as hell?

"Fine. - I'll get everything ready. - You just stay here and wait, 'kay?" Dean sucked in his lower lip and forced a smile on them.

"Not like I could go anywhere soon, huh?" Sure Sam had meant it jokingly ... but somehow it came out way too serious.

Dean noticed that too. Obviously it wasn't that easy to convince someone else of him – not after the mess he had created months ago. But Dean Winchester wouldn't give up. He needed the man in his life like the air to breathe. Sam was precious. He was the one who was calling to all those hidden and buried feelings deep inside him – alone by being around the hunter.

"Sure ...", he muttered and eased his arm out under him and got out of bed, tugging the comforter back up over Sam. "I'm back in ten."

They had to go into Dean's bedroom. - One of the only rooms with a bathtub in the bunker. Most of the others were equiped with showers.

A nice big oval bathtub with enough room for two people. So the hunter hurried up to get everything ready and turned the hot water on, before he headed back to Sam, who already sat at the bed, shoulders hunched over, head bowed forward.

"Told you to wait for me.", he said as he spotted his boyfriend and earned a slight flinch for it.

"'m sorry ... " A short pause. "... thought I get myself ready."

The hunter gave a disapproving groan and walked towards the younger man. He then helped him on his feet. The short way out of the room, across the corridor and through the hunter's bedroom into the bath, cost Sam most of his reserves and left him panting and sweaty from tip to toe. He had visibly paled and looked like he would collapse at any moment now.

Dean leaned him against the tiles beside the bathroom-door, holding him there with his chest leaning against him. "You think you can hold on a bit longer? - Just enough to get your clothes off?"

Sam nodded, as he took a deep breath through his nose.

Dean caught the dazed look of the other man and shook his head slightly, understanding that he wouldn't be able to stand up on his feed any longer. So instead of getting the clothes off of the younger man, he guided him towards the toilet-bowl and flapped down the lid.

Sam sank down on it slowly and leaned back, closing his eyes, taking deep breaths through his open mouth.

Meanwhile, Dean started to unbutton his flannel-pyjama slowly, giving the younger man some time to catch his breath.

Sam let him. He actually didn't care. Not right now. Dean could've done whatever he wanted to with him, just as long as Sam could keep his eyes closed.

The hunter then turned around to turn the water off and stuck his pointing-finger into the water, feeling the temperature. He then returned in front of Sam and kneeled down, pulling the thick woolen socks off of his giant feet.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean patted his knee, so to get the man's intention. "You ready?"

Sam just nodded, head tilted back, his eyes still closed. He was ready for everything except moving. This felt worse than a flu. So much worse. He felt like he was going to die in the next couple of minutes.

"Okay. - Get up.", the hunter whispered gently and rose, waiting for any sign that Sam WOULD try to get to his feet.

But no such luck. Sam remained in his position, not even a twitching muscle. Just the rise and fall of Sam's chest as he sucked in one deep breath after another.

The hunter muttered something, before he bowed forward and wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him up.

He groaned in disapproval as he felt strong arms pulling him to his feet, but tried everything to keep his body in an upright position, fighting the dizziness and buckling knees.

The next thing Sam could feel was the shirt slipping from his shoulders and the very next moment, his pyjama-bottoms and boxers were gone.

Just like that.

He intently wondered how Dean had managed to get him all naked without him realizing it ... then again ... it didn't really matter to him at the moment. He trusted the hunter to do the right thing, since he couldn't handle himself. Obviously.

Soon he felt himself being shifted and a sudden change of his position let him moan as another wave of dizziness claimed him. In the very next moment he felt his feet being lifted from the floor and then there was a comfortable warmth starting to surround him.

Dean had his problems with getting the giant guy into the tub, even if it was just a couple of feet behind him. So he scooped the man up in his arms, grunting under the straining muscles in his back, and got him over the tub.

Ever so carefully he first lowered Sam's feet into the over-warm water, waiting for his reaction of the temperature. When he was sure that it wasn't too hot, nor too cold for him, he eased him into the steaming fluid completely, soaking his sleeves with the water in the process.

"Just relax." the hunter panted and sniffed, wetting a washcloth, "Your hair's ridiculous, Sammy. - Guess we've to take care of that too, huh?"

Sam just kept his eyes closed, probably not even realizing that someone was talking to him. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to make Sam walk that far yet.

Regret stained the hunter's world of feelings and laid down heavy over his mind, as he watched Sam closely.

"Sam?", he asked hesitantly, as he laid his – with the washcloth covered – hand over Sam's chest.

"'m here." He sounded exhausted and tired.

A small smile tugged on the hunter's lips, letting him look a bit more relaxed. "Fine." He cleared his throat. "I'll get you and the hairy beast on your head cleaned up. - And back to bed ... - That's okay with you?"

"Uhuu." Sam smacked his lips and blew out a shuddering breath through his nose, his forehead slightly furrowed.

Though ... Dean wasn't sure if Sam truly understood what he was saying. But the hunter carried on anyway. He didn't like the way Sam was looking. Pale. Fragile. Sick. Thin. Vulnerable.

He hadn't realized before ... but now? Now that he saw the lanky guy without clothes in the bathtub ...

Dean's frown deepened.

... Sam didn't look that bad ... didn't look extremely malnourished. But it was enough to make him worry. Sam walked hard on the border of looking underweight.

So the older man cleaned Sam up – ever so gentle and careful. He started with his hair, lathered it up and washed the shampoo out again.

Guiding the washcloth over Sam's face, throat and broad shoulders. Down his biceps and armpits. Over his chest and belly ... and then he stopped, his look traveling further down, caught in the thin line of soft curly hair ...

Maybe he didn't need to go THERE with the washcloth anyway. Sam would get clean down there from the bath and the soap. So he left that part of the younger man's body untouched and continued to rub down his thighs and calves.

"You comfortable there, Sammy?", the hunter asked huskily, looking up at Sam's face.

He couldn't suppress the warm feeling that started to build in his belly, lunging streight for his manhood. There was just a layer of fabric in between his palm and Sam's skin. And it started to feel unbearable. The hunter wanted to feel Sam's skin against his, wanted to touch ...

Though he couldn't. - He wouldn't take advantage of Sam like that.

May there would come the time ... His thoughts trailed off towards a hot slippery bath-scene ... and he caught himself while daydreaming, catapulting himself back to reality in no-time, as Sam stirred under his touch.

The man seemed like he had fallen asleep. His features soft and relaxed, long lashes with tiny drops of water resting together.

Despite all the things he had said to Sam ... he somehow felt proud that he seemed to kind of trust him. - Or Sam had been just too exhausted to even keep his eyes open and notice that he WAS in the bathtub. All naked. The hunter cleaning him up.

"Don't stop ..." Sam's eyes fluttered open lazily and a small smile tugged on his lips, when Dean's washcloth-covered hand stopped his movements at Sam's knee. "... feels good."

The hunter couldn't do anything but grin widely and he chuckled. He looked up and caught the younger man's dazed look. "Guess that means I'm not doing everything wrong ..." Big green eyes turned sad.

"No ..." Sam tilted his head to the side, his hazel-green circles filled with adoration. "... Under that hard shell of yours's a pretty soft core, hunter ..." Now he flashed him the cutest dimples in the entire world. Looking at him with a smile as bright as the sun.

And Dean Winchester blushed slightly, looking aside and pulling his hand back, letting the washcloth slip into the water in the process. "Water's cooling down, sasquatch. - Time to get you out."

Sam frowned. "Not now ..." He sniffed. "It's comfortable in here."

"It won't be any longer.". The hunter glanced at him, unable to hold eye-contact. "Besides ... You're gonna look like a wrinkled plum if you're staying in the water any longer." With that he rose to his feet and extended his hand towards the younger man. "C'mon."

Sam huffed. "Fine.", he muttered and held onto the rim of the tub to his left and right, his knuckles turning white with the strength and effort it took him to get into a sitting position.

Sensing the younger man's fight, Dean moved behind him from the side and grabbed him under his armpits, helping him to stand up.

Sam leaned onto the older man, as he stepped out of the tub, all wet, soaking the hunter's clothes with the bathwater. He eyed Dean up and down for a moment and was about to pull away, but the hunter held him tight.

"I'm ... your clothes are gonna get soaked." Sam mentioned, though didn't try to get away from him again. "'m sorry."

The hunter chuckled, looking up at Sam. "I'm gettin' other ones later. - First we've to get you dried off and dressed again before you catch a cold ..." The hunter guided him to the toilet again and let him sit down on it. Moments later he was back with towels, thrusting one of them into the younger man's hands.

Dean threw one of them over Sam's head and started to rub his hair, until the towel was damp and tugged it around his shoulders.

When they were done, Dean helped him to get dressed hastily, in another set of flannel-pyjamas.

"Where did you even get them?", Sam asked curiously, as he stood up with the hunter's help and let him pull the bottoms up.

"Shop – in town.", Dean panted, pearls of sweat forming on his forehead. "Me and Cas went out while yo were gone. - Figured you'd need to get some clothes ... and other stuff ..."

Sam's frown deepened, guilt glistening in his eyes and his cheeks flushed a deep red. "What did they charge? - I ... I've some silver rounds and stuff in my back-pack ... I'm used to pay my debts -", he was about to continue but got stopped by Dean with a rising hand.

"They didn't charge anything. - It's from a shopping-center outside of the walls of town ..." The hunter told him casually and wrapped an arm around the younger man's back.

"But ... there're ... walkers?" Even for a hunter it was stupid to hang around on the outskirts of the walls. - Walkers were everywhere, specially around the bigger cities. Somehow they got drawn to the living ones ... as it seemed.

Anyway: But that was exactly there, where the most resources were stored. Just no one dared to go there. - Sometimes groups of armed men strolled out and got things the townspeople needed, or they would sell them later on of course.

The dangerous thing was, that the walkers were – in fact – more than just a hand full mostly. There were dozens of them, sometimes hundreds in the shopping centers.

Dean chuckled and cocked an eyebrow, urging Sam with a slight movement of his arm to move outside the bathroom, leaving the wet towels behind.

"I'm a hunter ...", he remembered the former hooker, "Me and Cas know what we're doing. - If it makes you feel better: We didn't just go there because of the clothes for 'ya. We needed some other stuff too ..." ... what of course wasn't quite right. Dean – in fact – had gone there, just because he wanted to have Sam's room settled when he'd come back. Because he had never given up. Had known, that one day he'd find Sam.

It took Sam some great effort to lift his feet. His head still felt sore, his joints as if someone was trying to tear his limps out ...

Dean took more of Sam's weight over until they reached the hunter's giant bed. As they stopped, the younger man gave him a weary look, but let himself being guided down on it.

The hunter helped Sam to get his feet on the bed, after he sensed him struggling for a moment to get his heavy legs up. He then rounded the bed to the other side and stripped his shoes off, before he laid down beside Sam.

Sam shifted and lifted his butt from the comforter, so that the hunter was able to pull it free. He then turned to his side and lifted his uppermost arm, signaling Sam where he wanted him.

A small smile tugged on the younger man's lips and he inched closer, until he was just an inch apart from Dean. Who closed him into a gentle embrace and tugged him closer. Sam's arm snug around the hunter's waist and he tugged himself even closer, tilting his head back.

Big green eyes looked down on him, pouty lips twitching and coming closer slowly. The hunter laid a hand on Sam's yaw and held him there, letting his lips brush over the younger man's slightly parted ones.

Sam deepened the kiss, licking tentatively in between teeth, meeting the hunter's tongue right behind them. A low moan fell from his lips, pressing his body tighter against Sam's in the process, kissing him back. The younger man answered with a soft animal-like purr, tilting his head further to the side to give the hunter more access.

It felt like Sam's body fit perfectly, like they were made for each other.

Dean let his hand travel down the former hooker's yaw and neck and down to the small of his back.

Sam's flat palm rested in between the hunter's shoulder blades, pressing his hips unconsciously against Dean's. Feeling the hunter's erection against his thighs.

When they parted, both were breathless. Sam more than Dean.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, as he let his head sink back into the pillow and winced.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was husky and heavy with worry.

"Headache ...", he muttered.

The hunter gathered him in his arms and guided the younger man's head to his chest, cupping his head carefully in his hand.

"Try to get some sleep. - You need it." So did the hunter ...

_... to be continued_


	24. Chapter 24 Gates Of Heaven

!THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC ADULT CONTENT BETWEEN TWO MEN!

you are going to read about arousal and cocks

you've been warned

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 24 ~ The Gates Of Heaven**_

THEN:

_"Sam?" Dean's voice was husky and heavy with worry._

_"Headache ...", he muttered._

_The hunter gathered him in his arms and guided the younger man's head to his chest, cupping his head carefully in his hand._

_"Try to get some sleep. - You need it." So did the hunter ..._

* * *

NOW:

_some days later … _

Sam had improved slightly. At least he was capable of making his way into the bathroom and back to bed all on his own now.

He was eating regularly now. Five small meals of solid food a day. And Dean did take delicate care that he ate up everything.

The hunter hadn't been around as much as he had used to in the beginning. Instead of him, there were Garth and the others occasionally checking on him.

Dean refused to tell Sam about the newest findings they had gained. He thought it'd be better if they wouldn't say a word as long as Sam wasn't back to at least eighty percent. The hunter didn't want to load another burden onto the younger man's shoulders that early. - Not after what he had been through recently.

At least the nightmares seemed to ease in their intensity. Instead, Sam sometimes lay or sat somewhere and stared into nothingness.

When Dean asked him, what he was thinking about, the younger man just smiled sadly and shook his head, answering: „_Everything and Nothing._"

A fact that didn't make Dean feel easier around his heart.

* * *

_It was one of those days … _

… Sam emerged from the bathroom, after taking a short cool shower, dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. He intended to surprise the hunter by being done with everything, so Dean wouldn't have to come for him and help.

Though there was still the headache that refused to go away. It still lingered in the back of his skull, flashing through his head when he wherever dared to bow down and stand up too hastily.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sam bowed forward, to slip into cotton-socks and slippers, when he heard the door handle of the door to his room being pushed down with a squeak and he paused. Holding one of the cotton-socks in his hands. He looked back over his shoulder and saw a pretty surprised Winchester coming in.

Sam smiled at him proudly, saying _see_? Though there remained slight lines of pain …

The surprised expression on the hunter's face changed into concern and then a soft smile formed, where his lips had been a hard line.

„Wanna come into the kitchen for breakfast today?" Dean picked up right there, hoping that Sam would want to.

Sam nodded and turned his attention back to his socks and his feet, as he bowed further down again. With a grunt and squeezed shut eyes, he held his hands to his head and straightened up a bit.

The very next moment he felt gentle hands on his and Sam looked up, to stare straight into a pair of emerald-green eyes.

„I'll help you, Sammy." Dean took the sock from the younger man's hands and kneeled down before him. „Don't push yourself. - Jo said you gotta take it easy even when you already feel better."

Sam sniffed and nodded, watching the hunter closely, as he slipped the sock over his right foot.

With a wicked grin, the hunter looked back up at Sam, resting his hands on the younger man's upper thighs, drawing with his thumbs small circles into the denim.

Both their looks were locked onto each other.

Dean's hands traveled an inch further up.

Sam leaned back on his elbows, never breaking eye-contact with the hunter, pursing his lips and tipping his head to the side slightly, saying _what are you waiting for?_

The Winchester inched closer, rising to his feet, never breaking the physical contact with Sam. He crawled onto the bed over Sam, his hands following his moves up to his flanks.

Sam settled back onto the mattress completely, watching the hunter while he crawled up at him, lowering himself down until their chests were flush against each others.

Dean tilted his head down and brushed with his lips over Sam's jaw, his chin and up to his lips again, sealing them over Sam's tender cushions. The younger man's hands found their way to the hem of the hunter's shirt, guiding his hands under it, feeling the warmth of his skin against his palms.

Sam opened his lips slightly, as he kissed back and tilted his head to the side as his eyes fluttered shut.

The hunter deepened their union, getting on his elbows, lowering himself further down, pressing his hips against Sam's. His tongue slipped in between the younger man's lips, his hands wandering further up and burying them into Sam's damp hair.

He tasted so sweet, like pure heaven, on his tongue. He could never get enough of him. _Ever_. This was what he had been waiting for all his life. Someone by his side (even when the start had been bumpy as hell). Someone to love and getting loved back.

As the hunter tugged gently on the younger man's hair and rolled his straining erection against Sam's, he lured a moan from his throat.

Sam arched his groin up against the hunter's, bracing his flat palms down on Dean's lower back to hold him right there, feeling their hard manhoods against each other's.

Their kissing changed from soft and tentatively into more urgent, more aroused, more _everything_.

Sam's hands pushed the hunter's shirt further up, traveling back to his sides again and tugged on the waistband of Dean's jeans.

He lifted up a bit, when he felt the younger man's hands traveling towards his belly and started to fumble with the belt, then with the fly and finally with the zipper. Each time Sam's cool fingers brushed against his warm skin, shivers and jolts of pleasure ran through his body.

It nearly felt like TOO MUCH at once.

A surprised gasp broke their kiss, when Sam guided his hand into the hunter's underwear and cupped HIM with his big hand. Dean pressed down into the touch, feeling long fingers curl around his hard length carefully.

A low graon tore from the hunter's throat, all of a sudden no longer able to form coherent words. Pure pleasure radiated in waves through his body. „Sammy ...", he gasped, as Sam tightened his grip around _him_, dragging the soft skin over his hard length, up and down in a slow pace. „Oh God …"

Dean's forehead rested against the man's chest beneath him, panting, fisting the sheets beside Sam, his whole body trembling as he climbed higher and higher under Sam's touch. He thrusted up into the _him_ enveloping hand, searching more friction as Sam ran his thumb over the slick head of the hunter's manhood.

Somehow Sam was glad that Dean didn't try anything to get _his_ pants down, to get his hands on him. - It wasn't that he didn't want to. Hell, he was starving for the hunter's touch. But he felt too ashamed, too embarrassed. He wanted to give something to him, instead of taking – AGAIN.

Because there was nothing else to give than this. Nothing else he truly owned that he could share with the hunter.

The one thing he was truly capable of doing _right_ …

A gasped grunt and three thrusts later, Dean came all over the former hooker's shirt, letting Sam stroke his softening member, until it stopped to twitch and bulge.

Completely spent and panting, Dean sank onto the bed beside the younger man, resting a hand on Sam's chest.

„Holy crap ...", he muttered in between gulps for air.

Sam turned to his side too and buried his face in the hunters neck, nuzzling into his skin with closed eyes as he let go of him, taking exquisite care, not to bring his dirty shirt too close to Dean's. So not to taint him with his filthiness.

They lay there like that for quite some time, until Dean had finally come down from his heights and his breaths evened out.

Before the hunter was even able to get his thoughts together, to get the idea to do the same thing for Sam, the younger man pulled away slightly, and tugged Dean's soft manhood back into his pants and zipped up the jeans.

Sam then got up from the bed and ripped the shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor beneath the bed. Without saying anything, Sam headed for the bathroom. He didn't even dare to look at him …

Dean shouldn't lay his hands on something like him. - Who even knew if he was clean? Maybe he carried some kind of desease?

Okay … he had never done anything without condom … but that didn't mean anything, did it?

Hell, he didn't even know if any of his costumers had been clean … even worse was that Sam didn't even know HOW MANY he have had.

Dean lay flabbergasted on the bed, following the younger man with his look, not able to bear any word …

_Oh god …_ had he done something wrong? Had Sam even WANTED? Didn't he want to let Dean get to business with him too?

Still in thoughts, Dean sat up on the bed and buttoned his jeans closed. His gaze fell on the shirt on the floor and then at the bathroom-door.

„Sam?", he called out hesitantly. Maybe he had forced him unconsciously … He swallowed around the building lump in his throat.

The very next moment, before his thoughts could go any further, the door opened and Sam stepped outside with a shy smile and a fresh shirt covering his torso.

„Breakfast?", Sam asked.

Utterly confused, Dean nodded and got up from the bed, as if being commanded to do so.

„Yeah … sure … breakfast ..." _No_ … he didn't understand the world right now.

* * *

The others were already waiting for Dean to pick up his and Sam's breakfast, when they came into the kitchen. Rather surprised they stared at them.

Garth's gaze wandered over the both of them with an expression of confusion.

The rest seemed positively surprised to see Sam too.

Sam sat down beside Garth and Dean on the opposite side of the table beside Kevin. The hunter obviously tried everything to appear as usual as always, but didn't quite manage it.

They had the common giant sunday-morning-breakfast. With bacon and scrambled eggs, coffee and pancakes. There was even milk and rasperry-sirup.  
They ate in silence nonetheless.

When they were done, no one got up to clean the dishes. They all sat there and seemed to wait, staring at Dean.

„It's about the gates of heaven.", the hunter started finally with an added sigh.

Everyone stared at him. Surprised and somehow confused.

„The demon told you that?", Castiel asked with a deep frown.

The hunter nodded. „The demons ARE looking for nephilims, because the angels do.", he continued to explain. „Obviously a bunch of angels think, that they can reopen the gates of heaven with the help of a nephilim. - And since Crowley intends to stop them, he sent his pit bulls to kill them. All except the one he captured for himself." Dean looked at Jo – who didn't seem that impressed about the information – and then to Sam, who visibly paled.

„Did the demon also tell HOW?", was Jo's first question, „Because I am pretty sure I wouldn't know how to open any gate ..."

Dean shook his head. „No. - Either it's worth to die with the information or he truly doesn't know."

„You sure, Dean?" Castiel didn't seem as convinced as Dean was.

He gave his angel-friend THE LOOK. „Yeah, Cas. I'm sure. - There's no way he lied to me about that."

Everyone on the table fell silent again.

„And … what does that mean now?" Sam's voice was hoarse, as he asked silently. „Do we talk to the angels? - Are they friends?"

Dean chuckled. „Angels aren't friends, Sam. - They're like demons, maybe even worse." He cleared his throat. „We can't trust them. - Cas?"

„Dean's right.", Castiel said pensively. „We can't trust them."

„But … if they could open the gates of heaven again … maybe they could help, you know? Maybe they could help and clean the world from the walkers?" There it was, the hopeful sound and the bright eyes of Sam.

„No, Sam." Castiel leaned back a bit. „I honestly doubt, that any angel would think about helping humanity in the first place … The first thing they would start to care about is themselves and who is going to rule heaven." He thought for a moment. „And because I don't think that my brothers and sisters settle their fights that fast." The angel paused again. „And even then I doubt that they would think about humanity any different than before."

The young man frowned, visibly disappointed, and cast his look down. „But we could make a deal with them, huh? - You know … I could help them with whatever they need and in return they're doing the clean-up?"

„NO.", Dean growled, slamming both hands on the table before him. „We are not making deals."

Sam jumped and flinched away.

„Angels do love sacrifices. - I thought about that the past couple of days. - And I think that the only way ANYONE could possibly open the gates of heaven again is with a ritual." Dean looked into the round, catching everyone's gaze except Sam's.

„And you think it involves a sacrifice." Castiel said calmly. „What actually would make sense … The gates had been closed due a ritual … due a sacrifice …"

They shared looks … actually just Dean and the angel seemed to know what kind of sacrifice. But something told them, that none of them would like the answer if they would've asked.

„It's been a blood-sacrifice." Bobby came into the kitchen, with his duffel thrown over his shoulder. „Simple as that. - Castiel bled his best friend nearly dry in the process ..." The season hunter's look traveled over to Dean.

Everyone at the table knew what Robert Singer wanted to tell them …

„So … as bad as I'd like to stay here and enjoy the hot water … I got a call from Rufus. He's in trouble … AGAIN.", he said gruffly, his thick eyebrows furrowing, his eyes rolling.

Dean got up from the bench and gave the old man a bear-hug. Bobby hugged him back. „Stay save.", Dean muttered.

„I'd feel more comfortable if the feathered bastards stay upstairs where they belong ...", he gave back warily, catching Castiel's gaze. „Sorry, Cas!", he said, as he stepped back.

„Nothing to be sorry for, Robert. - I do understand your unease around my brothers and sisters." Castiel gave him a reassuring smile.

The old man caught each other's gaze a last time and gave them a nod, before he disappeared into the direction of the garage.

* * *

The rest of the day was tense. Castiel and Jo had gone into the green house short after their small discussion.

Kevin had returned to his angel-tablet, searching for anything that involved nephilims. But the chances were little to none. The tablets had been written down BEFORE all that had happened and without the knowledge of the scribe.

Sam lay sprawled out on the couch in the living-room, snoring softly. He hadn't wanted to go back to the bedroom. He said he'd rather stay with them. Even had taken one of the giant books from Dean to try to help. Not five minutes later he had fallen asleep, with the open book resting on his stomach.

Dean sat in the recliner opposite of the couch and had his nose buried in an old book with rituals and spells. Thinking of possibilities how a ritual like that could possibly work.

Later on, Castiel joined his hunter-friend with the research, so did Garth.

The wereman had hunted down a wild hog and brought it to the Miller's who would smoke it. In exchange for that they'd keep a half of the hog and give the other half back to them.

* * *

Sam slept most of the morning. Exhausted from just the little he had done. Dean woke him up for lunch anyway, deciding that it was more important to eat, than rest.

Sam got welcomed to his awakening with a slight throbbing in his head. That and the weakness that still stuck in his bones let him feel useless. He wanted to give something. Wanted to earn his place in the small group …

„You ready for lunch?" Dean smiled at him softly, as he brushed dark bangs out of Sam's face.

„What's on the menu?" The younger man put the book aside as he sat up.

„Stew and noodles." He chuckled. „Garth's stew. - Cas made the noodles … The kitchen was a mess, so I'm not sure if it worked out as it should ..."

Sam smiled at that, imagining the wolfman and the angel … Then again, Garth wasn't a bad cook … as long as it was about to make stew.

Sam leaned back against the backrest and closed his eyes for a brief moment, instantly causing a concerned look from the hunter.

„I'm fine … just … just tired." Sam swallowed and opened his eyes.

„You sure?", The hunter asked, watching Sam closely.

„Sure." Sam gave back with a reassuring smile. „You gonna help me up?"

Dean lunged forward and gripped Sam's hand, helping him to his man swayed a bit at the change of hight and Dean grabbed him instantly around his waist, holding him.

„I could get you your lunch over here. - Doesn#t matter if you're eating here or in the kitchen …"

„No … no. - I wanna have lunch with ya'll, 'kay?" Sam looked at him with big puppy-eyes.

Concerned, but unable to not let him, Dean nodded. „You know, Jo's gonna be pissed if you pass out on me just because you think you have to do something, huh? She's gonna whack me with her bandana, Sammy."

The younger man chuckled amused. „With the bandana?"

„With the bandana.", Dean gave back with a muck grin.

Sam leaned slightly against him the whole way into the kitchen, visibly tired and exhausted, but determined to hold on. AND he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts, with his _memories_. With the things the doctors in the psychiatric ward had made him forget.

His ability to see into the people around him wasn't gone with the fact that he saw again. No. He really SAW them. What they carried inside of them. He could SEE who they were, WHAT they were and he thought it looked beautiful.

But even more he thought about the fact, that Castiel's and Jo's energies seemed to belong together somehow, as if they reached out for each other over the distance … And Sam could tell by the looks they gave each other, that there was more between the both of them as just being friends.

This time, they had made some space on one side of the bench for the both of them, so they could sit together …

Dean kept his hand on Sam's thigh most of the time, squeezing it gently to get his attention, whenever he wanted to look into those amazing hazel-eyes.

And as a bonus, Sam flashed his brightest dimples every time at him as he did so, causing the hunter to smile himself.

…_... to be continued_

* * *

_WHAT ABOUT SOME BACON?_


	25. Chapter 25 Fear

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 25 ~ Fear**_

THEN:

_Dean kept his hand on Sam's thigh most of the time, squeezing it gently to get his attention, whenever he wanted to look into those amazing hazel-eyes._

_And as a bonus, Sam flashed his brightest dimples every time at him as he did so, causing the hunter to smile himself._

NOW:

_Days passed and things went on as they were ..._

Dean and Sam made out at any time they got each other alone – mostly at night or in the mornings, since Sam wanted to get out of the bedroom and spend time with the others.

Sure, Sam was doing a lot better. He was more stable on his legs, not that tired anymore. He even seemed to gain weight again. The color of his face didn't remember of the one of a corpse these days – at least not that much.

He was now the one who cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen in general. He was cleaning like a mad man so to say. As if he somehow tried to compensate something.

And yeah, Dean Winchester exactly knew WHAT the former hooker tried to compensate. He wanted to be useful, to do _something_.

And Dean let him. - At least as long as he thought Sam was doing good, wasn't overdoing himself. The younger man had still his headaches and the dizziness. Even when he didn't mention it, Dean _knew_.

Not just because Jo had told him that it would take time, that he would need a lot of rest … That he shouldn't overdo himself. Another sign, that she meant it serious was the fact, that she refused to show Sam how to find out what his abilities were, even if he pushed for it.

Besides all of that, there was also the thing with sex. Sam somehow managed every time to disappear into the bathroom, or he pretended to fall asleep, when Dean had found his release. Sam also always found a way to sneak out under Dean's loving hands at any time the hunter started to go below the waistband.

Dean had barely the chance to touch Sam the way he wanted to … Sure, cuddling and snuggling and kissing and stroking was never a problem. Not at the least. Hell, Sam was one hell of a cuddler. He always seemed to seek closeness to Dean whenever he had the chance to.

And Dean didn't know what he should think about that. That was how doubts started to grow deep inside him. The question if Sam wanted to be his partner, or if he just had the urge (or felt the duty), to give these _things_ to the Winchester …

Then again … the way Sam looked at him, how he touched him – it was gentle and loving.

Dean just didn't understand what was wrong. What made Sam that withdrawing when it came to sex. Maybe he was afraid somehow though. And then again … Sam have had sex before, probably even knew more about it than the hunter …

_So, yes._ They had to get some things straight between the both of them. Because Dean couldn't go on like that.

Because the more he thought about it, the crazier his ideas about what could possibly be wrong got. And that nagged on him all the damn time. It made it even worse with every time he tried to touch the younger man and got indirectly pushed away …

* * *

They had just have lunch in the kitchen.

Jo helped Sam with the dishes, though the younger man had made clear that he could handle it on his own. That he wouldn't need any help. And Jo had insisted on helping him anyway.

When they were done in the kitchen, Sam went streight for the bucket and filled it with hot water. He intended to get the library cleaned up. Not that it was THAT dusty there.

Anyways, Sam grabbed the rags from the small retainer beside the door and went for it. He wanted to be done, before Cas and Dean would be back from the closest town to the bunker.

Garth had come back this morning from one of his strolls and had reported about a couple of vendors with sweets and cans of soft drinks. Thing was, that there were a whole lot of walkers around, so all four of the men went out, leaving Sam and Jo back in the bunker.

Where they'd be _safe_.

That was one of the reasons, why Sam threw himself into tasks like that. He felt like he wasn't useful out there. And he didn't want to stand around and look pretty, waiting for them to come back each time they headed out.

So while Jo went to water the plants in the green house for Castiel, Sam started to clean the surfaces with hot water. Climbing on and off the ladder, dusting off the books and shelves.

And that was, when it happened.

That was, when a wave of dizziness came over him unexpectedly. He was just three sprouts away from the safe floor, as he lost his balance, the bucket slid from his had and he let go of the ladder, falling down a couple of feet to hit the floor with his back – hard.

Hard enough to knock all air out of his lungs and white dots danced before his eyes. His vision blurred and blackness crept towards its middle in the very next moment.

* * *

The very next thing he felt was something cool in his face. Something – NO – someone was touching him, cupping his face. He heard a voice, though it seemed to be far away …_ too far away. _

And for a moment he wasn't sure if he heard right. If truly someone was calling his name …

Then there was another voice, and the hands were gone all of a sudden. These hands felt warm and more familiar. They felt _strong_ …

The voice sounded clearer now. Someone was calling his name, tracing a finger along his neck …

And Sam wanted to say, that it's okay, that HE was okay … but his vocal cords, nor his mouth wanted to obey at the moment.

Then the fingertips obviously found what they had been looking for, because they lingered right above the pulsating point on his neck for a long while, before they were gone again. And then there were these warm palms cupping his face again, holding his head steady where he couldn't. Sam felt his head and shoulders being lifted from the ground and he got pulled up into an upright position.

That was when he first noticed the biting smell … like _vomit_.

_Oh god … he hadn't, had he? _

„Sammy?" Dean's voice was heavy with concern. „Sam. - C'mon. Do you hear me?" The hunter pulled the younger man's torso upright and against his chest, letting the younger man's head lol back into the crook of his neck.

Castiel cupped the back of Sam's head in his hands and guided them down over his neck and shoulders. „There's a small bump on the back of his head ...", he said pensively. „... Nothing bad as it seems … no broken bones.", he continued as he traveled with his hands down over Sam's ribcage.

„Maybe he didn't fall down that far." Kevin bit down on his lower lip, as he looked up at the ladder that reached up to the highest of shelves.

Jo just stared at the both of them with her pissed off _I-told-you-so-look_.

Dean glanced up at the ladder. Even if he hadn't fallen from the top of it … if he fell because he passed out, then it didn't matter. If he was already unconscious while he fell, he wouldn't have had a chance to catch himself.

Sam's lips parted and a low groan erupted from the depths of his throat and all eyes were on him. The hunter's grip on him tightened unconsciously, as his eyes fluttered open.

„Ow … fuck ...", Sam grunted and groaned. His head was pounding and hurting. He felt dizzy … and why the hell was he on the floor? Where did the others came from? Weren't they supposed to poke some walkers and get an vendor to the bunker?

Sam attempted to sit up, but was hindered by a strong arm across his middle. „Oh no … you won't.", he heard the Winchester's familiar voice. „You hurt?"

Sam shook his head and winced at the sudden movement.

„What happened?" Okay, Dean could imagine what happened. The empty bucket, the dirty water on the floor, two soaked rags, the ladder and Sam on the floor …

„Missed a sprout I think ..." Sam well knew that this was a lie, and probably Dean would know too. But he could try, couldn't he?

„Sure, baby boy." The hunter sounded like he was frustrated as soon as he had heard Sam's answer. „You get your skinny ass to bed. - Don't wanna see you up until dinner."

Sam nodded. Because he honestly didn't feel like he could do anything else right now.

„And then we'll talk.", the hunter continued seriously.

Without any further word, Dean motioned Garth to hold Sam up, while he got back on his feet and took his place beside Sam again. Both men helped him to his feet and into Dean's room … what actually had become Dean's _and_ Sam's room anyway.

Sam tried to hold his own weight, but his buckling knees and his blurry vision wouldn't let him carry the half of it, nor let him see exactly where he was going.

Fantastic. - He WAS a liability for all of them. He couldn't even fucking clean up a room … Sure, Jo had told him that it'd take some time – in HIS condition. She had told him. And Sam had ignored her. He just …. he couldn't wait that long.

Everyone in the bunker did something to earn their right to stay.

Castiel had the green house.  
Garth went hunting and brought home food.

Kevin worked on the angel-tablet.

Dean … well, Dean was the guy who tried to save the world.

Jo … Jo was who she was. She knew a lot about herbs and all that stuff.

And he? - He felt just sick. He WAS sick. How could he even be sick still? Sure, he was getting better, but by far not fast enough …

It never dawned on him, that it was his fault alone. Because he couldn't stop trying to be a part of the small group – it didn't dawn on him, that he already was …

When he was settled on Dean's bed, Garth left. Dean helped his boyfriend into a set of fresh clothes, since the other ones where soaking wet. The hunter sat down on the edge of the bed, looking frustrated and guilty …

„We've to get the vendors from the Pickup. - I'll check on you later, Sammy." It was half a statement, half a question.

And Sam nodded, not able to look the hunter in the eyes.

Dean laid his hand on Sam's yaw and guided his head up, so that he had to look at him. „You're gonna stay here, okay? If you need something ANYTHING, you holler." His words were soft and filled with concern.

Then he stole a lingering kiss from the younger man.

„Yeah." Sam smiled shyly.

* * *

It didn't last long until a silent knock was heard on the door of the bedroom and the graceful form of Jo appeared in the door frame. She wore a soft smile and her new favorite oversized shirt Castiel had gotten for her. (Obviously the angel had no clue about sizes.)

She walked over to the bed and slumped down beside Sam, who had followed her every move. Jo sighed an threw her legs over another, crossing her arms behind her neck.

„You know. You're a stubborn bastard." She didn't even look at him while she spoke calmly. „I talked to Dean. - And he thinks it's his fault. He thinks you think that you have to earn your place here ..." Now she stole a glance at the man beside her, who continued to stare at the ceiling – brooding. „But you don't … - Besides: I know it's hard. You're recovering slowly and you're not hundred percent yet. - That's just because you weren't in the best shape when we did that. It has always its effects on a body." Jo sighed, shifting slightly. „Your body has to catch up, you know? - Some of those I helped … some needed months to recover. Though I have to say … non of them were in the same bad shape as you were … emotionally and physically." She paused and thought for a moment. „The others want to help you. - But they don't know how … so they let you do your thing. But they don't know that it's not good for you. They see it. But they also don't want _you_ to feel useless." She paused again. „And you know _who_ that hurts the most?"

Now she looked at him with big brown eyes.

Sam looked back at her, not answering, because he knew it already. „Dean ...", he muttered after a long while and Jo nodded.

„Dean thinks he's doing something wrong … maybe you should tell him that he ain't."

Sam nodded to himself, casting his look aside. He sucked his lower lip in and blinked, searching the seam of the blanket with his looks.

„He's beating up himself over something. And I guess it's not just that … huh?", she asked further, trying to trigger something inside Sam to think about. „He's actually beating the shit out of the vendor in the garage …"

Sam searched the woman's face pleadingly. „I don't want to be a liability, Jo. - I AM a liability right now. I can't do anything without feeling weak …´"

She sighed, her features softening. „I know that. - We all know that. You shouldn't break your pretty head about that."

„But I can't. - Why would he want to keep me then? I'm completely useless like that. I'm … I don't know … it's just like ..." He sighed, tears glistening in his eyes.

Jo rolled her eyes and shook her head. „You're an idiot. - It's not about keeping someone. That's about love, douchie. He loves you. And you love him ...", her look turned suspicious, „don't you?"

Sam nodded with a sad smile. „I just don't want to screw it up, you know? … It's not like ..." He sighed, unable to go on without breaking into sobs.

Jo nodded. „I know … - But Dean doesn't know. You have tell him." She smiled reassuringly. „I'm sure he'll understand, Sam."

* * *

Two hours.

Two hours until the vendors were open and they were able to get the chocolate bars and soft drinks out of them.

They shared the sweets and cans fair and square among each other. Also Sam had a own bag with sweets and soft-drinks on the side.

The coins from the vendors came into a separated bag. They'd sort them out later into quarters, cents and dollars, casting their own ammo with them.

But for now they were happy with their latest triumph.

Jo nudged the Winchester in the side as he kneeled on the floor of the garage, gathering the tools together again. Kevin had wanted to help, but the hunter had sent him away. Told him, that he'd do it, that Kev should go and get something to eat on the table.

Of course the prophet wasn't mad. He knew Dean and the way he was used to say things. Especially when something was bothering him.

If you lived in one another's pockets you started to see through the moods …

Dean looked up at the woman, as she kneeled down beside him, and started to gather the screws together.

„I got this.", the hunter muttered pensively.

„I know.", Jo gave back with a wicked smile.

After a long while she continued: „I think it's because he feels useless."

Dean looked up, tossing a hand full of screwdrivers and forceps into a box next to him. He sighed deeply and sucked in his lower lip. „Is that so ..." He did like he was busy with doing what he was doing right now … but actually his ears were wide open.

„Sam thinks he has to earn his place in our group.", she said calmly, while she sorted brass screws from iron ones in two different small boxes.

„He knows he belongs to us ..." Dean didn't look at her.

Jo sighed deeply and cocked her head to the side. „You think so? - I think he doesn't. I think he's feeling useless to you and everyone else." She paused. „On top of all that … he's dealing with memories of a hundreds of years – _cruel_ _memories_. He killed and he got killed – beings that were as much as his brothers and sisters. And he doesn't know why he feels bad about it. Why he feels guilty." Jo paused again. „And then there are these memories of his own past. The things he was forced to forget and the things he actually doesn't want to remember. - He was a _prostitute_, Dean … what do you think how he's feeling?" She looked up at him, fixing the hunter with her gaze. „He doesn't seem like the kind of person who just shrugs it off. - He looks like the kind of person who feels filthy and dirty and bad …"

Dean listened – carefully – and stole a look at the younger woman.

„He loves you, Dean ...", she whispered gently. „That's why he's hesitating, why he's trying to fit in so desperately he doesn't even notice what it's doing to him …"

That made the hunter frown and look up with a questioning look.

„You love him too, don't you?" A warm smile tugged on her lips. „Right?"

A shy grin spread over the hunter's face, letting his eyes lite up and his cheeks flush slightly. „Yeah, I do ..."

„Maybe he just needs a little nudge into the right direction …", Jo added before she rose to her feet and patted the hunter's shoulder. „You don't even have to talk a lot … just SHOW him. - I know you're not that great in talkin' ..." She chuckled sympathetically.

„You done?" Dean rose both eyebrows. His eyes filled with warmth and sympathy for Jo, even when his words remained annoyed.

Jo just nodded and winked at him, before she headed towards the door, that led back to the stairway. Behind the door, there was Castiel, leaning against the wall beside the door, chewing on his bottom-lip. The angel looked up and he pushed away from the wall, eying Jo questioning.

She just smiled, winked at him and gave him a peck at his cheek. „Done." She winked her long lashes at him and with that she disappeared upstairs.

* * *

Sam had his face buried in the pillow, wet with tears and spit and snot. But he didn't care. Not in the least. He had known from the very beginning that he was a screw up. That he wasn't worth it. That he wasn't made for a _normal_ life.

Had never been …

Yes, he loved Dean. - For the first time in his life he could truly say, that he loved someone. Really loved. Like a _arrow-to-the-heart_ loved.

Despite all the things that had happened between the both of them. Good and bad ones … He couldn't believe that the hunter could possibly love someone SOMETHING like him. He just couldn't … and it broke his heart.

Sam couldn't talk to him about it. - About the way he felt.

A part of him feared, that Dean would laugh at him. Would tell him, that he didn't love him back. That he'd push him away like he had already done before.

He was happy for the things he actually was allowed to HAVE with the hunter. - Though his heart longed for more. His _body_ longed for more …

But how was he supposed to tell him his fears? His concerns and doubts?

Would Dean Winchester even listen to him?

* * *

Dean held the bag with Sam's sweets and soft drinks in his left hand and his own bag in the right. He had stopped right in his tracks in front of the door to their bedroom, when he heard muffled sobs coming from the other side.

And it broke his heart. Let it shatter into pieces.

No matter why Sam was crying … it was bad. _Real bad._ It sounded heartbreaking and tore on his internals. Letting them squirm and shift like angry worms.

His grip around the trays of the bags tightened, so that the knuckles of his hands turned white. The hunter closed his eyes for a moment and then set the bags carefully slip to the ground.

It was HIS job to deal with it. To share the hurt with Sam. Because that was what a relationship was about, wasn't it? _Wasn't it?_ What a partner and lover was there for, huh?

Dean Winchester just needed to try …

So he opened the door carefully and stepped inside, where he stopped again, eying the trembling heap on the bed, on top of the covers.

Hiccups and heartbreaking sobs got muffled by the pillow.

Sam seemed too distracted to notice that he wasn't alone anymore. Hell he didn't even notice Dean coming closer, until the bed tipped down and the hunter settled in behind Sam, wrapping his strong arms around him. He stroke Sam's hair – ever so gently, kissed his neck and hushed him silently.

But all that just seemed to make it worse instead of better.

Dean Winchester was helpless.

„Sammy?", he asked, tugging the trembling man closer, „Baby boy … c'mon – talk to me, sweetheart." He ran his hands through the taller man's hair, brushing it out of his face. „I wanna help you … Tell me what it is, huh?"

The hunter threw his upper leg over Sam's, as if he tried to completely envelop him, sucking him into himself. He then eased his lower arm under Sam's neck carefully.

And Sam let him.

„C'mon. - Sam you gotta talk to me man." The hunter sounded nervous, nearly terrified.

All Sam could manage was a strangled „_Sorry_" and a „_I'm so sorry_", wich both didn't bring the hunter any further. But at least it was something …

„What do you think you have to be sorry for?" Dean buried his face in Sam's hair, sucking in a deep breath and Sam's scent with it. - It felt like a rush, cursing through his body. „Sam – What is it?"

Sam started to turn around slowly in the hunter's embrace, until he was facing him. His eyes red and puffy and wet. Giant round hazel-eyes looking up at him, wearing an expression of shame.

The younger man unwrapped his arm from in between himself and the hunter and reached up. His shaky fingertips traced a line down from the hunter's forehead to his lips and over them.

For a moment, Dean didn't dare to breathe under the gentle touch. Didn't dare to move or shift just a bit.

He just stared down worriedly into big hazel-eyes, waiting for an answer. When Sam's fingertips were gone, leaving nothing but the hunter's oversensitive skin and a tickling feeling behind, he laid his hand on Sam's cheek, who leaned into the touch with closed eyes.

„I wish … I just wished I wouldn't be what I am. I wished that I wouldn't have done what I have." The younger man's eyes opened again, big and innocent. „I … I don't think I ever fell in love before … I never … I never made _love_ to someone." Sam cast his look down. „And I just don't … don't taint you with … with _me_."

Dean frowned, his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes narrowed. The expression on his face turning serious.

Then there was silence for a long time.

„That's why you won't let me touch you?", Dean asked calmly, still staring at Sam. „You're afraid you could possibly taint me with your filthiness?" Amusement sparked up in the hunter's eyes for a moment. Then he chuckled.

Disturbed, the younger man looked up.

„Look, Sam. - I think that's real cute of you. BUT … I think I know what I want. And I know I want you – as long as you want me too." He grinned slyly and leaned his forehead against Sam's. „I don't care what you've done before. Past is Past. - I don't care what you are, because for me you're pretty much human. With some useful features." He brushed his nose against Sam's. „I just want YOU. WHOLE. I want to touch you. I want to make you feel good, so good. I want to show you how it is, to make love _together_ ...", his last words were barely a whisper, his lips so close to Sams, they nearly touched. „I wanna make love to you, baby boy, I wanna touch you ...", he whispered into Sam's mouth, before he sealed his lips over Sam's before the younger man could utter a word.

Dean buried his fingers in Sam's long hair and held his head, just giving him enough room so that he was able to tilt his head to the side.

The kiss deepened and soon turned into something more urgent until Dean pulled away, heavily breathing, holding Sam's face in his hands, wiping away his last tears.

„I wanna get you all naked, wanna kiss every single inch of your body … wanna take you into my mouth." He grinned slyly, sucking in his lower lip and bit down on it. „The things i wanna do to you, baby boy ..." His voice grew huskier by the spoken word. „It feels so different when you make love, sweetheart …"

The hunter didn't even know what effect his words had on the man in his arms.

„Yeah?" Sam bit down on his lower lip.

„Yeah.", Dean breathed and sealed his lips over Sam's again. „I'm gonna show you ...", he traced a line of soft kisses down Sam's yaw and neck, where he buried his face. „I'll show you … what love is."

* * *

…_... to be continued_

_okay, who's ready for some lovin'? :)_


	26. Chapter 26 The Enemy By Your Side

I thought it was about time to let the both of them have some fun, huh?

!THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT!

You've been warned. Don't read if you don't like to imagine Sam & Dean having sex. Because that's what it is ...

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 26 ~ The Enemy By Your Side**_

THEN:

„_I wanna get you all naked, wanna kiss every single inch of your body … wanna take you into my mouth." He grinned slyly, sucking in his lower lip and bit down on it. „The things i wanna do to you, baby boy ..." His voice grew huskier by the spoken word. „It feels so different when you make love, sweetheart …"_

_The hunter didn't even know what effect his words had on the man in his arms._

„_Yeah?" Sam bit down on his lower lip._

„_Yeah.", Dean breathed and sealed his lips over Sam's again. „I'm gonna show you ...", he traced a line of soft kisses down Sam's yaw and neck, where he buried his face. „I'll show you … what love is."_

* * *

NOW:

Sam had fallen asleep with his head nestled into the hunter's chest, his long arms wrapped around the other man's middle.

He didn't dream. He remembered. He always remembered these days. How it had been before he even lived. Feeling what those things felt, that were him now. _HIM_.

Sam FELT the mingled essences of what he was. He felt the forces that flooded his body like the tide every night he _remembered_. Felt the powers within him. And though he didn't know how to use them. What to do with them. What he was capable of.

And to be honest? Sam didn't want to. - He had always had wanted to be regular. A worker. A husband. _A_ _human_.

It had taken him a while to accept that he saw the beings for what they were. That he saw their real faces ...

Dean cradled the sleeping form in his arms, not wanting to let go. - Not _ever_ wanting to let go.

* * *

Castiel sniffed at the pot on the stove, in wich Jo was stirring with a spatula. She chuckled and nudged the angel in his side.

"Back off. - I'm not done yet.", she teased and bumped with her hip against his.

The angel looked up with his immensely blue eyes and cocked an eyebrow. "I don't do anything."

She chuckled again. This time lower. "Yeah, but you were thinking about poking your finger in it."

Castiel's forehead creased. "Is that another ability of yours?"

Jo laughed and shook her head. "Dude. - NO. I saw it in the way you looked at the chilli."

Castiel straightened up and pursed his lips, his look caught in deep liquid brown eyes. "I am not going to put my finger into your chilli, Joanna."

She looked aside shyly.

The angel searched the tiled above the stove with an embarrassed expression on his face.

"Maybe ... maybe we should talk to the angels? ... Maybe it wouldn't be bad to have allies on our side?", she spoke up after a while, obviously feeling the urge to dump the topic of poking fingers into something hot.

The angel nodded to himself. "I was thinking about that too. - But Dean has a point. They may are not well-disposed. Besides we do not know what they want from your kind."

Jo sighed deeply. "Guess we won't find out, if we're not gonna ask, huh?" Their gazes locked over the short distance.

Castiel smiled at Jo.

Jo smiled back at him.

Time seemed to stay still for a long moment, while the air around them felt heavy and sparkling with energy.

"You're gonna get our love-birds?" She smiled sweetly, her voice smooth like velvet against the angel's soul. "Or should I?"

* * *

If course it was Castiel who went to call Sam and Dean for dinner. Though, his mind was somewhere else right then on his way through the library.

Garth and Kevin watched the angel walk by, completely sunken in thoughts, his cheeks flushed in a deep red, his hands in his pockets. He didn't even seem to see where he was going ... though he managed not to bump into something.

"Garth?" Kevin said, as Castiel disappeared from their few.

The wolfman still stared at the doorway, just like Kevin. "Huh?"

"We should get out more ... That way we won't get laid ...", the prophet muttered.

Garth nodded in approval.

Their looks still glued where Castiel had disappeared.

* * *

When the angel entered the hunter's bedroom, he was immediately greeted with a pair of green eyes snapping their attention in his direction.

"_Dinner_.", the angel mouthed.

Dean gave him a short nod. "_Give us ten._", he mouthed back, half-whispering.

And the angel disappeared with a short nod and closed the door again.

The hunter turned his attention back to Sam, brushing his over long bangs behind the younger man's ear. He didn't say anything. Just looked at Sam for a long moment and smiled. His smile soon turned into a smirk.

Dean laid his hand on Sam's chin and led his head up and before the younger man was able to come back to awareness, there were a pair of tender lips covering his.

"'mornin' Sammy.", the hunter whispered against his lips, "Time to get some grub."

The younger man yawned and smacked his lips, groaning in disapproval. "No ...", he muttered sleepily, not even bothering to open his eyes. Instead he tightened his hold around Dean a bit.

The hunter chuckled and laid his lips over Sam's again, this time using his tongue to tease their seam and licking tentatively into his mouth.

Sam let him.

He leaned into the kiss, enjoying the way Dean brushed down and back up over his back. A soft groan fell from his lips into the hunter's mouth.

The older man's hands wandered down to his lower back again, and further towards his butt, cupping his right buttock in his hand and squeezing it gently.

Sam yelped into the kiss and pulled back chuckling. "That ain't fair ..."

The hunter shrugged. "Grub. - Now. - I'm starving."

Sam's eyes fluttered open lazily. "Fine ...", he grinned mischievously.

The very next moment, Dean found himself on his back, Sam straddling him from above, crushing their lips together and grinding his groin against the hunter's. Dean's manhood sprung to attention on command and a feral groan wrenched from his throat.

Another moment later, the younger of them hopped from the bed after a final grind against Dean's hips, and was on his way out of the room the seconds later.

"Aw, no." While Dean fought with the sheets that got tangled around his legs miraculously, Sam was already out of the door. "You're so gonna pay for that!"

The hunter looked down on himself, his arousal visibly straining against the denim ...

He sunk back into the mattress, slamming a fist into it.

It took the Winchester twenty minutes until he had calmed down enough to walk among other people ... Then again ... he probably could just have taken one of his longer tee-shirts to hide the tightness in his jeans. OR he also could've visited the bathroom. But that wasn't what he actually wanted to do about the _matter-of-factly_, very obvious need.

If only he would've had enough blood in his head to think streight ...

When Dean finally joined his friends in the kitchen, they were all seated at the table. Sam in the middle between Garth and Cas. He had obviously chosen his place carefully.

His boyfriend lurked up between shaggy strands of hair. His sly grin turning into a definite_ i-know-i'm-in-trouble-now-look_, wich the Winchester gave him.

The hunter never broke eye-contact with the younger man until he sat down beside Kevin.

And then, as if someone had skipped the switch, Dean smiled and cast his look at the pot in the middle of the table.

"Hadn't have chilli in a while.", he said then, grabbing a roll. "Where did we get the beans?" He looked at Castiel.

Castiel looked back at his hunter-friend, slightly irritated by the question.

"Millers. - Exchanged some of our tomatoes for them." The angel cocked an eyebrow at Dean and then looked at Sam suspiciously. He obviously had noticed (like every other one on the table) that something was up between the both of them. He was the only one who attended to speak up and bring the issue on the desk, but got poked by someone under the table against his sheen, letting him jump.

Garth and Kevin just shared a look, wich said: _Yeah-we're-doing-something-wrong-obviously._

Then they ate. Talking about this and that and laughing when Garth told them one of his stories. Because they were pretty funny, even although the wereman told them like they were absolutely serious.

It was one of these evenings, when Kevin got out the old film-projector and put in one of those old OLD movies. - Virtually the only kind of television they got.

The others let the Couch to Sam and Dean.

Jo slumped down on Castiel's lap, who sat in the recliner – completely unprepared for an attack like that. But he didn't say anything.

Kevin and Garth just shared annoyed looks over the distance, after the both couples had gotten seated finally ...

* * *

The credits ran down over the screen before them.

Garth yawned and purred silently as he made himself more comfortable in his wolf's form to Kevin's feet. The prophet snipped dried apple-chips at the dog, wondering when he'd finally get up from his feet.

Jo had fallen asleep on the angel's lap, snuggled into his chest. Castiel sat in the recliner – like a statue, staring blankly at the screen since about half an hour.

Dean rested on the couch, still in his place. Sam laid there, his head resting in the hunter's lap, who fondly played with the soft locks of his hair. He hadn't spent a lot of attention to the film anyway. His focus was on Sam and the way the colors in his eyes sparkled in the dim light.

The hunter's hand traveled down, over Sam's neck and shoulders and over his bicep where he let it rest for a long moment.

Dean faked a yawn and shifted a bit, gaining the younger man's attention.

Sam turned on his back and looked up through long lashes and gave the hunter a warm smile. Dean smiled back ... and it was all kinds of _everything_. Sweet, loving – FERAL. A promising expression in his eyes.

Sam then sat up and rubbed over his face with both hands, screwing up his itching nose.

Both men shared a short glance before they got up from the couch.

"Good night, folks." Dean looked into the round and earned a couple of good-night-nods.

He then reached for Sam's hand and pulled him with him towards the corridor, tugging him closer as soon as they reached the hunter's room.

When they were inside, Dean closed the door behind them and backed Sam up against the door, pressing his body against the younger man's. He then sealed his lips over his, licking into the sweetness, while his hands searched for the hem of Sam's shirt.

A soft gasp escaped the taller man's lips, when Dean brushed over his nipples absently. "The things I'm gonna do to you, baby boy.", the hunter whispered huskily. "I'm gonna make you pay for the lill' stunt you pulled earlier."

Sam moaned into another kiss, his fingers ghosting down the hunter's flanks, on their way towards his jeans. Short before he was able to get them to their destination, Sam's hands got swatted away gently.

"No, Sammy." Dean placed a wet trail of kisses down the taller man's jaw. "My turn." And his neck. "I'll show you ..." Suckling his way down Sam's throat towards his collarbone. "... what it means to make love, sweetheart."

"I ... I'm not prepared ... I ...", Sam stammered half-minded, "I didn't know ... - Just let me go to the bathroom, 'kay?" Slightly panicking at the thought of not being _prepared_ for **Dean**. Of not thinking earlier about the hunter's intentions ...

"I'm gonna get you ready, sweetheart.", the hunter muttered into Sam's neck. "It's my job to do that ... Just relax ... I got you."

Dean didn't look up, he just kept going, licking and kissing and nibbling his way down, flipping one button after another open, until the shirt revealed its hidden treasure.

Sam's breaths came in short puffs, his eyes closed. He didn't dare to look. He was afraid of what he might would see ... the way Dean could possibly look at him.

He didn't want to see if he was looking at him like the others. Possessive, feral – _dangerous_. Suddenly he was afraid, that the hunter would dump him when he was done. That he'd turn his back on him and tell him to back off.

"Sweetheart?" Dean cupped the younger man's face in his hands, a flash of concern crossing his face. "Open your eyes for me ..." His voice was soft and gentle, reaching deep down into Sam's soul.

The younger man's eyes fluttered open and he looked streight into a pair of lust-darkened green eyes, gazing at him warmly. The hunter was searching his eyes and face for a long moment, before he wrapped his arms around him again, laying one hand on the back of Sam's neck and pulling him down into a gentle kiss.

"Beautiful.", he whispered and brushed with his tender cushions over Sam's. "So beautiful ..." He turned the both of them around and walked the taller man backwards to the bed. When he felt Sam's legs bump against it, he guided the his lover down into a lying position.

The very next moment, Dean was over him, urging him backwards into the middle while they kissed.

It took some time, but eventually Sam seemed to ease into it, to go along. He kissed the hunter back and soon the both of them were rutting their erections against each other in a slow pace.

_Like Dena had said_ ... it was about making love and not about sex. So he took his sweet time, wanted to show the former hooker what it was like to make love with a person you _loved_.

Ever so slowly, Dean's hands explored Sam's torso. Every inch of smooth skin under his fingertips felt like heaven, like coming home. Like finding what he had been looking for for so long.

Sam gasped and squirmed under his touch, beautiful small noises falling from his lips with closed eyes.

The hunter kneeled in between Sam's unbelievable long legs as he bowed down once more, to get in contact with his lips. This time, Sam wrapped his long arms around the older man's neck and let himself being pulled up into his lap, where they continued kissing.

After a long while of exploring each other's mouths, and moving their bodies against each other's, Sam's hand found their way under the hem of the hunter's shirt. He tugged on it and brushed it upwards, pulling it off of the hunter to expose soft flesh.

Dean hooked his thumbs into the loosen shirt around Sam's shoulders and brushed it off of him.

They watched each other's naked torsos for a moment before their lips found each other all over again.

Sam ground his globes into the hunter's lap, the bulge of his arousal brushing over his belly.

"They need to come off.", The hunter growled – _actually_ _growled_ into the kiss. "Way too much clothes, sweetheart."

Dean started to fumble with the belt, button and zippers of Sam's jeans, while Sam did the same to the hunters.

Finally noticing, that they wouldn't be able to get out of their jeans like that, Dean bumped Sam carefully from his lap, laying him flat out on the mattress beneath them.

Sam didn't even recognize when he had gotten all naked. But all of a sudden he was on his back, without clothes and an equally naked hunter standing at the end of the bed, eying the well built man before him.

His rock-hard manhood tipping against his belly, moving slightly with every inhale and exhale.

Dean locked his eyes with Sam's, as he stepped out of his jeans and crawled with graceful elegance onto the bed to Sam's feet.

On his way up, he tugged Sam's long legs apart. And the younger man spread them even wider, his breath hitching, when Dean trailed a wet swipe with his tongue over the underside of his length, letting it twitch in anticipation.

When Dean was back up, he sealed his mouth over Sam's, letting the younger man lick into his mouth. Letting him taste himself. The hunter didn't as much as keeping his weight from the man beneath him.

Sam seemed to be wary at first. Just hesitant touches and fingertips that ghosted feather light over the older man's sweat-covered skin.

"I won't break, Sammy.", he muttered into his ear and nuzzled into his neck. "You can touch me. - Touch me wherever you want, baby boy." He was slightly breathless by now.

Dean slipped his hand under the pillow and pulled something out. A small bottle that fit perfectly into the hunter's hand.

Rather surprised, Sam watched the hunter as he sat up and snapped the small bottle open. "Where'd you get that?"

Dean smiled slyly and patted his thighs. "Made a trip to the sex shop on the second floor after we got the vendors."

Sam frowned worriedly and the hunter chuckled. "Nah, I didn't went there for just _a_ bottle of lube, no worries. - I stuffed as much into my pockets as possible ... got one with spearmint-flavor though." The hunter wiggled with his eyebrows and wore a wicked grin, causing Sam to laugh amused.

"Strawberry." Dean first showed the bottle to Sam and then squeezed a generous amount of it over two of his fingers.

Sam looked up at the hunter ... not exactly knowing what to do now. He was nervous. For the first time ever since he had first contact with another man he was nervous. Maybe even more nervous than ever before. Because this meant so much more than just sex.

And suddenly he felt bad again and his thoughts trailed off.

But before he could go down that path, Dean was in between his legs, nudging his thighs further apart.

Sam bend his legs and let them fall apart, thrusting his hips up. The very next moment he felt a pillow being positioned under his butt, and a hand nudging at his thighs, telling him that he should lift his legs up a bit more.

Sam obeyed, obviously nervous about what was going to happen. All of a sudden he felt unsure about himself AGAIN.

Dean just smiled up at him and gave him a wink, with this typical Winchester-expression on his face. He then drew his attention back on the bottle of lube and coated two fingers of his left hand some more. The hunter took his sweet time to tease the hell out of Sam, while he lay there, his breath hitching as soon as Dean drew his fingers down his cleft. The hunter took delicate care to not putting too much pressure in his touch. Teasing him with the pat of his finger, playing with the rim and puckered hole, before he penetrated him carefully.

Sam's head fell back into the pillow and his eyes fluttered, his yaw slacking open at the feeling of being entered like that.

Dean teased and played with Sam's tight balls until he felt the resistence fade and let his finger slip in even further, until it was completely buried inside the young man. All the time keeping his eyes on Sam's face, watching him carefully for signs of pain or discomfort with what he was doing.

So he carried on and dragged his finger out and back into the tight warmth, searching for the sweet spot that'd promise salvation.

In between all those sweet little noises Sam was making, there were these lower, more feral grunts, whenever he passed the spongy bundle of nerves deep inside the man beneath him.

Soon he added another finger, feeling Sam tense for a moment when he reentered him. When he added a third one, Sam was already matching his slow thrusts with slow rolls of his hip. The silent noises he had made where now louder, deeper. More _urgent_. He was practically writhing beneath the hunter, lost in the newly found sensations that cursed through his entire form.

Dean pulled out of him and climbed up until they were on eye-level. They just looked at each other for a long moment, before Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and crushed their lips together – pulling him back up with him into a sitting position in his lap in one go.

Sam cried out a surprised yelp at the sudden change of position, though didn't really break their kiss. He felt Dean's hard length against his own, snug between their bellies while they held each other and kissed. Every tiny shift sent sparks of pleasure through the both of them.

Though, Sam shifted while they kissed and rose a little bit, biting down on the hunter's shoulder softly and rubbing against him, telling him without words that he was ready. That he wanted this.

He rose a bit more, and let the hunter line himself up against Sam's entrance. And ever so slowly he sunk down on the impressive thick length, taking him inside inch by inch.

Sam threw his head back with an aroused moan, his mouth agape. Feeling the immensely intimate connection between the both of them. The feeling of finally being one. Dean bit down on his lower lip hard, trying to anchor him in the very moment, so that he wouldn't come too soon.

And when Sam was finally seated in the hunter's lap, his own manhood snug in between himself and Dean's sweat-slick belly, he exhaled a breath that he hadn't known he had been holding. The hunter wrapped his arms around the trembling body, his own hands shaky with the waves of lust that cursed through him.

"That okay? - You okay, sweetheart?", he whispered into Sam's ear, holding him close – so close, as if he wanted to fuse the both of them into one being.

"Even better, hunter.", and with that Sam started to move.

First slow and tentatively, as if to find out what the hunter liked. Soon he increased his pace, letting himself being carried away by the sensations.

It never had felt like THAT. It never had felt _good_. Not like that, not what it felt like with the hunter. Because the others hadn't been Dean, hadn't been his _lover_.

They were making love. - Sam hadn't thought that there was much of a difference between that and just having plain sex. This was MORE. It simply felt amazing ...

Dean tangled his fingers in Sam's hair and tugged gently, driving a low moan from the younger man's body. And then, when he started to move, rolling with his hips ... it was indescribable. Alone the noises Sam made – sweet and though manly – could've driven him over the edge right then.

Instead of giving into the need to come, Dean eased one of his hands in between their bodies and wrapped his finger's around Sam's tender skin that covered his hard aching member. He tugged Sam's head down with the other hand and sealed his lips over Sam's, swallowing the increasing cries and moans that fell from Sam's lips, as he matched the movements of his hand to Sam's rise and fall.

Soon they weren't much more than a panting, sweat-slick mess. Each of Sam's moan got answered with one of Dean's and vice versa.

The older man tightened his grip around Sam, sucking in a deep breath before he called out his name, releasing himself into him.

Just moments later, Sam followed, as he felt an indescribable cozy warmth filling him.

The both of them were riding out the aftershocks together in a slower, more sated, pace.

Sam slumped down against the hunter, whose softening manhood was still buried inside him. His limbs suddenly like jell-o, unable to do anything else than feeling Dean's over-heated body. His mind dazed from the post-orgasmic haze.

Dean mumbled something into his neck, what much sounded like a praise. But Sam didn't understand any of it right then.

So the hunter wrapped his arms around him tighter and let him sink backwards onto the mattress and pillows, and just then he eased out of the younger man slowly.

He placed a chased kiss on Sam's cheek and was off the bed.

"Dean?", it was close to a whimper and kind of desperate. Though, Sam couldn't bother less just then.

"Back in a minute.", the hunter said hoarsely.

And like promised he was back, in _the same_ minute. With a warm, wet washcloth, dragging it over Sam's chest and belly. "Gotta get you cleaned up, baby boy."

The very next moment, Sam found himself wrapped in strong arms, tugged closer and under layers of soft covers. He snuggled closer, pressing his ear to the hunter's chest and listening to the slowing down rhythm of his heart, while their bodies were cooling down.

He heard Dean whisper sweet things and felt gentle kissed on his forehead every now and then, caressing touches on his back ... but he was too tired, too spent to utter any kind of respond ... and he drifted off into sleep seconds later.

* * *

Dean moaned and sniffed, tugging the man in his arms a bit closer, nuzzling his nose into the roughed up mop of hair.

He felt the urge to get up, to do something – _anything_. And though he couldn't. It was too comfortable ... too pleasant beside the younger man. Hell, heaven could crumble down on earth and he wouldn't have cared less.

The Winchester shifted slighty and ran a hand up over Sam's soft skin on his back, making him squirm.

Though, he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he was watched, that something wasn't quite right ... that something _was_ there, that didn't belong ...

"Huh. - I never expected a Winchester to be fag.", a cold, teasing voice echoed through the room. A low chuckle followed.

The hunter's eyes snapped open the very moment he had heard the voice. He snapped his head up and glanced towards the door. It was closed. He caught a movement in the corner of his right eye and immediately tore his attention to the dark form sitting in a chair not far from the end of the bed.

"Son of a bitch.", Dean hissed, his eyes turning dangerously dark, his right hand sliding under the pillow where his head had rested before. "How the hell did you get out of the trap?"

The man's eyes flashed black for a moment. "I think that should be the last of your problems right now."

_... to be continued_

* * *

_HOW BAD DO YOU WANT IT? _

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_**THEY'RE KEEPIN' ME GOIN'!**_


	27. Chapter 27 The Meeting

**Okay, this chapter got out of hands somehow (it's way longer than I intended it to be) ... there's a bathtub-scene you might wanna skip (explicit sexual adult content where two men are having some sweet time) ... others high likely are going to kind of love it anyway ;)**

**so you've been warned, & now on with the story!**

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 27 ~ The Meeting**_

THEN:

_"Huh. - I never expected a Winchester to be fag.", a cold, teasing voice echoed through the room. A low chuckle followed._

_The hunter's eyes snapped open the very moment he had heard the voice. He snapped his head up and glanced towards the door. It was closed. He caught a movement in the corner of his right eye and immediately tore his attention to the dark form sitting in a chair not far from the end of the bed._

_"Son of a bitch.", Dean hissed, his eyes turning dangerously dark, his right hand sliding under the pillow where his head had rested before. "How the hell did you get out of the trap?"_

_The man's eyes flashed black for a moment. "I think that should be the last of your problems right now."_

NOW:

The man shifted in the chair, seemingly making himself more comfortable. He sniffed and blew out an audible sigh. The dried blood on his face looked pretty old, and some flakes got wiped away as he brushed over his mouth with a sly grin.

All the abrasions and wounds long gone. Even those that were covered from the torn fabric of his clothes. He blinked and tilted his head to the side as if to weigh his possibilities, or thinking about how to take revenge on the hunter.

Dean's hand slid further under the pillow. But there was nothing. NOTHING. His knife wasn't there. And that was when it came back to him, that he had put the knife into his duffel and replaced it with the bottle of lube.

He cursed at himself. Letting his defenses down could now cost more than just HIS life.

The hunter's lips formed into a thin line, cursing mentally at himself.

Meanwhile Sam started to stir beside him, showing first signs of awakening. What made the hunter curse even louder in his mind.

This was so _not_ good.

He laid his hand on the taller man's bicep, as he sat up slowly. "If you want to get out. - I'll let you out." Usually the Winchester wasn't someone to make deals with. But under this special circumstances he had less choices and felt himself threatened to make the first step into the right direction.

He didn't want anyone to get hurt. Specially not _Sam_. "You can't leave. You can't even smoke out from here. - The bunker's warded seven days from sunday."

The demon chuckled amused. "Who said I want to get out of here? - I thought more about revenge ... you know? Eye for an eye. Tooth for a tooth ...", he trailed off, his gaze traveling over to the sleeping form on the bed. That was when he smacked his lips.

The Winchester put his_ don't-you-dare-look_ on, staring daggers at the demon. Though he bit his tongue right then, keeping himself from saying something stupid. Something that could direct the demon's attention at his partner any further.

"Nice lill' fucktoy you got there ..." Again, the black-eyed man smacked his lips as if he was about to eat a delicious steak. "Guess I'm gonna take a test-drive, huh? Heard he's a whore? - Sure got some nice tricks, Winchester ..."

Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously at their former captive. "Don't you even dare and -"

"Dean?", Sam's sleepy voice was heard.

The hunter hadn't really thought that Sam _wouldn't_ wake up. - But damn it ...

Sam wiped over his face and stretched out under the covers, turning on his back in the process, while he let his eyes flutter open.

The last night had been one hell of an amazing time. And Dean was still there, still beside him. That meant something, didn't it? HIS hunter. HIS alone and no one else's. Son NO, Sam couldn't suppress the stupid smile on his face after a night of making love ...

Sam's dreamy smile faded pretty fast when he started to realize that they weren't alone in the room. That the hunter's body beside him was tense and that something dangerous was lingering in the air. That the one who was with them wasn't one of their _friends_ ...

"Stay down.", Dean ordered, laying his hand on the covers above Sam's stomach to stop him from sitting up.

Sam kept completely still, frozen in his position. "Dean?", he asked again, this time completely alert to what was going on. "What-"

"Hey there, kiddo." The demon waved his hand at him, when Sam lurked up from his lying position. His eyes widening as he saw WHO their visitor was. All dangerously red energy and a messed up, half rotten face ...

The very next moment he felt a heavy invisible weight on him, pressing him into the mattress. A strangled gasp fell from Sam's lips, as he was suddenly unable to move.

Dean's attention snapped towards Sam, catching his gaze. "Stop it!", the hunter yelled, looking back at the black-eyed man.

It was rage – _hot white rage_ in green emerald-eyes.

The demon got up from the chair, strolling towards the bed in a slow pace, laying a finger over his own lips.

And suddenly all Dean got out was a gasp as he intended to speak up, getting rid of some not so nice names for the bastard. The demon shushed the Winchester and bit his lower lip, eying Sam intently.

Dena could clearly see on the man's face what was going on in his mind. - All the filthy things he thought he could do now.

"Well ...", the demon spoke up cheering, "Nice ... nice ... _nice_." He now stood beside the bed on Sam's side and looked down at the man, his look trailing over the exposed torso and stopped where the bedding started to cover Sam form his belly button downwards.

He sat his finger into the crook between the former hooker's collar bones and slowly traced it downwards over his smooth skin.

Sam tried desperately to twist away and squirm, but he was unable to move. _Not a bit._

Dean's hand snapped forward, catching the bastard by his wrist tightly. With a single look, wich the hunter gave him, the demon would knew what he couldn't say.

The things he'd do to him if he dared to touch what was HIS ...

Though ... the thoughts didn't last very long. A split second later, all air was knocked from the hunter's lungs and he found himself airborne and pinned against the wall.

"Nah nah nah ... might as well I'm gonna take care of YOU first, _Winchester_. I'll cut into your flesh, make you bleed and leave you half-dead.", the demon hissed, his eyes flashing black. "And then ... _then_ I'm going to kill everyone in here. When I'm done with them, I'm gonna take the lill' whore with me. - Letting you know what I'm gonna do to him, while you're suffering ... eventually you're going to survive, going to track me down ... eventually you're even gonna find me. - But it'll be too late ..." He made this noise just like Hannibal Lecter was able to do in _that_ creepy way. Using his teeth and tongue and a slow inhale of oxygen.

No he couldn't. - He couldn't get out of the bunker. He was trapped. There was no way that bastard would be able to escape – _ever_. Then again ... he got out of the trap, didn't he? The demon was locked down in a demonic supermax ... but he got _free_ ...

Dean tried to fight the invisible bindings, his gaze locked with Sam's over the distance. Seeing the panicked but labored breathing of his lover (holy shit – had he really thought that? _Lover_?).

Sam was utterly terrified ... so was he.

It was all his fault. He hadn't checked on the trap, nor on the shackles before he had left the basement days ago ... _Hell_ ... It was his fault if something happened to Sam or the others.

He was going to lose everyone within a heartbeat.

"No.", Sam breathed.

The demon extended his hand, as if he'd reach for the hunter. Though he was too far away to even touch him ...

If Dean would've got his voice, it had been an agonized cry, that would've echoed through the bunker right then. Squirming, his chest heaving, trying to fight the pain that ripped through his guts.

"NO!" Sam was heavily panting, fighting the invisible restrains. "_No no no._" This couldn't be happening ... _not now. Not ever._

The last _no_ hadn't even came over his lips when it started ...

And then there was this white-blue gleaming spark in his eyes. A spark, that grew the bigger the threat of losing the hunter got. Soon his whole iris was one white glistening circle. A few moments later it was like the light was starting to stream from every single pore of his body.

Bright and gleaming and _blinding_.

The demon ripped his attention away from the hunter, staring incredulously at the form he had pinned to the bed. He extended his other arm towards Sam as if to increase the pressure or doing something else to him, but it was already too late. The former hooker's body tensed, bowed up, so that just his heels and shoulders were supporting his weight anymore.

Suddenly Dean was released from the crashing force that had him pinned to the wall and he landed in a heap on the floor, covering his head and eyes from the bright light. Brighter than anything he had ever seen before.

A split second later, there was an agonized cry and the hunter couldn't make out if it was the demon, or Sam or even _both_.

The whole room was flooded with the light. There was no escape – _for no one. _

And as soon as it had happened it was over again. The bright light died in a matter of seconds and left everything behind as it was. Except ONE thing ...

Dean crouched hunched over beside the wall as a shivering heap.

Sam on the bed, his breaths labored, his hazel-green circles lurked out behind half-closed eyes. The white-blue spark in his eyes fading away slowly.

The smell of burned flesh was spreading rapidly, wich was coming from a deep-fried black mess a couple of feet away from the bed.

Then there was a tiny voice. Weak and barely more than a whisper ... "_Dean_", it said desperately.

The fingers of Sam's left hand twitched. "_Dean_.", it was a bit stronger than before.

* * *

The door to the hunter's bedroom burst open and there were four sleep-drunken figures in the middle of the room.

Garth in his wolf's-form, whimpering at the strong scent of roadkill, wich came right from in front of him.

Castiel with his angel-blade and Kevin and Jo with guns (both held them as if they had never needed to use such a thing before).

Their attention was driven towards the still smoldering and slightly blazing form of burned flesh before them. They stared at IT for a long moment, before anyone of them was able to rip their gazes away from it.

"Dean ... _please_ ..." Sam's voice broke the complete silence and directed the four's attention back to reality.

Castiel immediately hurried towards the bed, kneeling on the free space where Dean used to sleep. "Sam? - Sam, what happened?"

The young man sucked in a shuddering breath, the fingers of his left hand twitching again. "_Dean_ ...", it was a pleading whimper.

"Here!", Kevin yelled, who was already beside the hunter's naked form on the floor, Jo right beside him.

Castiel looked at them over his shoulder and turned half around, sliding his angel-blade back into the sleeve of his shirt.

"Dean?", Jo asked concerned, laying a hand on his bare back right above his shoulder-blade. "Dean ... **Dean**, you okay?"

The hunter's hand lowered slowly, his other one clutching to his stomach. A pained hiss ripped through his teeth, as he tried to shift. "God ...", he muttered.

"Are you hurt?" Kevin kneeled down beside the hunter.

Garth hopped on the bed on Sam's side, burying his snout in the crook of his neck, sniffing and licking with his wet tongue over the nephilim's ear and face.

Castiel shared a short look with the wolf, before he got off of the bed and joined the others beside the hunter on the floor.

"Dean?" Castiel tried again. "Can you hear me? - Are you hurt?"

"Don't ask stupid questions.", Dean choked out. "Sam. - What 'bout _Sam_?"

Castiel glanced back over his shoulder at the bed, taking in the form of the hunter's boyfriend in fast-motion. "He's pretty out of it. - What about you? Where does it hurt?"

"That bastard tried to rip my guts out.", the hunter answered panting, "What'd you think it feels like?" He sucked in a deeper breath, trying to breathe through the searing pain in his abdomen. "Get me a damn sheet."

The three of them shared a short look, agreeing non-verbally that it couldn't be that bad.

The wolf whined, sniffing and licking Sam's neck and face frantically, sniffing with his wet snout all over him.

Castiel pulled one of the messed up blankets from the bed behind him and threw it over the hunter's shoulders. Dean cradled its ends in his hands and pulled them tight around himself.

"Go. - Check on Sam ...", he muttered, locking his gaze with Jo for a moment. "'m 'kay."

With a single look she told Kevin and Cas to stay with Dean, while she hopped on the bed, kneeling beside Sam.

She laid her hand on his cheek, trying to catch his gaze, bringing him to focus on her. But there was no use.

"Dean's gonna be okay.", she whispered with a reassuring smile. "He's already bitching at us and ordering us around."

Sam didn't seem to understand.

Dean was beside her in the very moment, wincing and hissing as he crawled on the bed towards his life-saver. He slumped down beside his mate as soon as Jo made some space. The hunter didn't waste any moment. He cradled Sam's face in his hands and rubbed with his thumbs over his cheeks.  
"Sammy?", he whispered. "Sammy, look at me." Dean tried to catch his gaze.

He was so close, their noses nearly touching. Though Sam's eyes remained unfocused. "_Dean_ ..." it was merely a whisper.

"'m fine, baby boy.", he said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "Just a bit banged up at the moment. - What 'bout you?" Dean's voice was unstable and trembling.

Sam's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, when he opened them again they seemed to focus slowly on the pair of green eyes before him.

"Tired." He muttered, his lips barely moving, making it hard to understand. "So tired."

"Are you hurtin' somewhere, sweetheart?" Dean urged him on to tell. He needed to know. THEY needed to know. Whatever it was that had happened a few minutes ago, it had been something **big**. Sam had literally _deep-fried _that motherfucker.

The young man shook his head slightly. "Tired.", he repeated.

"Yeah, I know. - Sammy?" He smiled, brushing hazelnut-brown hair out of his face. "You sure you're not hurt? - Your head maybe?"

Sam shook his head again. He just felt exhausted and drained from all energy. He didn't feel any pain, nothing hurt ... except his butt was kinda sore. But that sure as hell hadn't have to do with what had just happened.

A small smile tugged on his lips at the memory of last night.

Garth laid down beside Sam, settling down on his side above the covers. Dean inched closer on his other side, eying the younger man's face for a long moment.

"Good. - Good that you're not hurt." Dean didn't completely believe him yet. Though he would take it as Sam said, since he didn't want to argue.

Sam's eyes fluttered shut, unable to keep them open anymore.

"Jo?", Dean asked worried. "You think we can let him sleep?"_ ... without slipping away. _

She seemed to think for a moment before she answered. "We'll try to wake him in an hour again." She paused. "He just seems exhausted ... guess he's the one who deep-fried that sucker?"

Dean nodded.

She laid a hand on the hunter's shoulder. "Let him get some rest. - We're gonna check on your stomach in the meantime."

The hunter looked at him concerned for a moment, brushing with his thumbs once more over Sam's cheeks, before he let go of him, and lowered his head back on the pillow.

"Fine. - Mind if I'd get my pants on first?"

* * *

_Of course_ Dean didn't leave Sam's side. He didn't do as much as sparing a glance at his angel-friend, who fumbled with his fingers around Dean's belly. The hunter's attention was alone on Sam and nothing else.

"You got lucky. - Doesn't seem like he got time to tear anything in there ..." Castiel looked up at the hunter, who still stared at Sam. "Though I am not a doctor. - But my _angel-mojo_ can tell that you will be fine." He sighed deeply, realizing that non of what he was saying reached his friend.

"Thanks Cas." Dean looked at the angel for the first time, pulling his shirt down.

"Me and Garth will take care of ... THAT.", he nodded towards the cooling heap of burned something. "You just ... do anything."

Dean gave him a short nod, his expression pained. "This could've gone south ..."

"But it didn't." Castiel gave back. "When we are done here, I will take a look at the basement. - See what I can find about how he escaped ... Might as well we won't want that happen ever again. As you said – it could have gone wrong if it hadn't been for _Sam_."

Dean gave him another nod, this time a thankful one.

He couldn't believe that he had been that stupid. Messing this up like that. He should've probably killed that bastard right after he had been done with him. He should've – at least – checked if he was secured enough.

Dean rolled over on his side with a wince, so that he was facing his lover – his _mate_. His **everything**. He ghosted with his fingertips over Sam's whiskery cheeks and jaw, brushing over those beautiful soft lips.

He was worried. - Even when Jo assured him that it was just exhaustion. How could she know? How could she be _that_ sure?

* * *

Castiel kneeled beside the devil's trap, with a bitter expression on his face, and a sad one in his eyes. His look swept over to the shackles he had examined earlier. They weren't damaged, nor had there been signs of manipulation.  
As if they had opened by _themselves_.

The devil's trap on the other hand had a fine break in the line. Barely visible for common senses.

He'd tell his hunter-friend later. When he would be up for this. When Sam would be at least awake again.

* * *

Three hours, in wich the hunter tried to wake the younger man in regular paces. Three hours in wich Sam didn't do as much as twitch.

Three hours, in wich Dean laid beside him, holding onto him, responding to every twitch of Sam's body with sweet-talk and praises.

The first signs of Sam coming around were the fast eye-movements beneath the lids. The fluttering eyelids and a low moan that came over his lips, before his eyes opened on half-mast.

"There you go, baby boy." Dean smiled at him happily. "Thought you gonna wake up any time soon ..."

Sam stared at the ceiling for a moment, then he turned his head and looked at the hunter. A faint smile letting his lips curl up a bit. "Hey."

"You okay?" Yeah, the hunter was still concerned as hell.

The taller man nodded and blew out a long _huh_. "Still tired.", he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Think I could sleep for a week or so ..."

"Well, it was a pretty big thing you pulled off there, tiger." Dena still smiled, but something was different. "You sure you're okay?"

Sam nodded again. "Stop asking, Dean. - I'm fine ...", he trailed off, "... but I could use something to eat ... I feel ... feeling like I haven't eaten in a month." He frowned at his own statement, as if there was something wrong with it. "And I'm thirsty ..."

The hunter frowned too, though he decided to go with it. Sam'd let him know if something was wrong – at least he hoped so.

"I could check out what's for lunch, huh?"

Sam turned on his side, the bedding twisting around his long legs. He then inched closer to the hunter and wrapped an arm around him, snuggling into him.

"Bath first?", he asked, muffled by the fabric of the hunter's shirt.

"Sure. - Knock yourself out." First he didn't quite understand why he was asking ... but then he caught Sam's gaze as the younger man tilted his head up.

"Meant with you ..." There was something hesitant in his voice.

The hunter nodded surprised. He hadn't quite expected Sam to invite him for a shower or bath ever. At least not that fast. Ever since showers seemed to be something very private for the younger man ... Something he didn't like to share ...

"You sure you are up to it?", the hunter asked, biting down on his lower lip.

Sam cast his look down and laid his head on the hunter's chest. "I feel unclean ...", he whispered silently, "... I want you to come in with me ... so I can feel safe ...I want you to hold me."

Dean blew out a breath, tugging Sam closer. Sam's answer didn't quite fit at his question ... "Sure we can do that. - I'll get the bathroom ready and get you, huh?"

Sam nodded against his chest, but didn't let go immediately.

"something's bothering you ... isn't it?" The hunter couldn't but figure ... "Tell me ..."

But Sam wouldn't. Instead he buried his face deeper into the hunter's chest, and Dean wondered if he could even breathe that way, or if he was about to suffocate himself.

The hunter decided to leave it be for the moment. He knew what Sam was thinking about anyway. About what had happened before – that he had deep-fried that son of a bitch. It had probably scared the hell out of Sam.

But it also had scared Dean shitless for a couple of seconds. For a short moment he had thought Sam was going to explode, or implode or whatever else he was about to do. That whatever was happening was because of the demon (though he haven't ever seen something like that). Just when he saw the downright scared expression on the demon's face, he knew. He KNEW, that it was Sam who was doing this.

"Bath you said?" A cocky grin spread over the hunter's face.

And Sam chuckled. Just like that. And nodded.

The two of them parted then, and Dean gave him a short peck on the forehead before he headed for the bathroom.

First there was the flush of the toilet, and then the tab from the bathtub being opened, water running into it.

Sam rolled on his back and wiped over his face with trembling hands. He couldn't believe that he still felt shaken up about what he had done. Right afterwards it had felt like all power that had come deep within from his soul, had been drained from him. As if he had shot his whole clip at once.

Wherever this had come from ... it had helped him saving Dean. Maybe even saving the others.

"Ready?", he heard Dean calling from the doorway.

Sam's attention was instantly drawn towards him and he nodded. "Yeah. - Yeah, I'm ready."

Sam sat up slowly, and slid his legs out under the covers. He groaned and held his head in his hands, trying to get his shit together.

Dean'd probably worry if he'd know how he felt. All weak and drained.

Even worse would be, if the hunter would think of him as a monster. Hell, the guy was probably used to kill things like him. And instead? Instead he had fucked him, gave him something to lean on. To talk to ...

"Hey ...", the hunter's voice cut through his thoughts.

When Sam looked up, he was kneeling before him, his hands on Sam's knees. "You okay, sweetheart?"

Sam nodded and leaned into the gentle touch, when Dean laid his hand on his cheek. "Just feelin' drained. It's okay. Really ...", he was trying to assure him that he was feeling okay. - Or Sam was trying to reassure himself that he did so.

"Fine." The hunter smiled at him brightly. "C'mon. - I'm gonna help you."

Of course (and because Sam had no other choice) he let Dean help him up and into the bathroom, stable him, when he climbed over the edge into the bathtub and settled down.

Dean was stripped down in no-time and just stood there for a moment, looking at Sam intently with a broad smile on his face that said ALL MINE.

Sam took the hunter's form in from tip to toe, letting his look linger on the hunter's private parts for a moment longer.

"Scoot." Dean tabbed at his shoulder and urged him forward a little until there was enough space to get in behind Sam.

When he was settled, and their legs arranged so that it wouldn't be uncomfortable for anyone of them, Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's middle and urged him back, until he was laying flush against him.

The hunter made a low guttural sound, shifting slightly under Sam. Sam shifted in respond, feeling the hunter's half-hard manhood against his butt-cheeks.

Some time after they had settled, Dean reached forward and turned the water off.

"That good? - You good?" Dean's voice was low and soft and Sam nodded, letting himself relax and fall back against the oder man's body completely.

The hot water caressed their bodies, letting them warm up comfortably while they soaked with closed eyes. The hunter never leaving Sam out under his protectively grasp, holding him close.

Sam shifted every now and then, rubbing occasionally against the hunter's half-hard member under the water.

To be honest: He loved what his movements did to the older man behind him. That he was ABLE to make him feel like _that_ ...

"I could help you out with that.", Sam pointed out hoarsely and ground against him once more, this time dragging his butt over him tighter and slower, feeling the hunter's length twitch against him.

An aroused groan fell from the hunter's mouth and he threw his head back, tightening his grip around Sam and thrust up against him with a small shift, so that his manhood slid in between the younger man's cheeks.

"Sammy ...", he breathed, dragging his now fully hard member against him in the need of more friction.

"Yeah ..." Sam tightened his grip on the edge of the bathtub.

The hunter's hand moved down, caressing the soft skin around Sam's bellybutton tenderly, following the soft curls of short hair that led him directly to his destination. Soon his hand found what he was looking for. A rock-hard erection and tight balls.

Sam's next exhale came out as a shuddering whimper, when the man behind him tugged on his testicles, his other hand searching their way up over Sam's chest towards his nipple.

The very next moment, Sam felt a warm breath over his damp sensitive skin of his neck and tender lips ghosting over his shoulder, kissing and nipping at him. Sending thousands of pleasurable jolts right down to his groin.

Dean's fingers circled the younger man's hardness and gave him a couple of strokes, before he pulled his hand away, slipping it down in between himself and Sam.

He shuddered under the hunter's touch, pressing down on him, when he felt a finger tracing down in between his globes tenderly, settling down over his puckered entrance.

Sam gasped at the comforting feeling of Dean's finger against his entrance. Teasing. Drawing small circles around the tiny opening. He arched into the hunter's barely-there touch and he got the hint.

The Winchester laid his flat palm over Sam's chest, as he penetrated him carefully, feeling the man before him shudder and making one of those tiny noises he loved so much.

"Yeah, baby boy. - Let go ...", he whispered, nipping on the tender skin of Sam's neck.

He rested his head against the hunter's shoulder, closing his eyes, gripping the edge of the tub even tighter, when Dean eased a second finger into him, taking delicate care to hit Sam's sweet spot with every single slow push deep into him.

Soon Sam was a squirming, panting mess, biting down on his lower lip, gripping onto the bathtub like for dear life.

Dean ever so slowly eased his fingers out of him and tugged Sam upwards a bit, so that his silk-covered length nudged against his entrance. Before the hunter even had a chance to move, Sam was already pushing down on him.

His eyes rolling back, his mouth agape, while he took him inside all the way to the hilt in one smooth slow motion.

All the hunter could utter was "_Oh my gods_" at the unexpected sudden stimulation. Everything too much for a moment. When Sam was seated in his lab he stilled, waiting until his body had adjusted to Dean's immensely giant manhood.

"Oh god. - Sam?", Dean laid his hand on Sam's belly. "Holy sit. - You gotta take it slow ... holy crap." He panted, not even daring to shift just an inch right then, concerned to hurt the man in his lap in any way. "You hurt?"

Sam shifted a bit in his position, his eyes still closed, his breathes shuddering. "I'm good ... so good ...", and he started to move.

An inch at a time out and back in, working himself more and more open on the hunter, surrounded by lukewarm water and the scent of the both of them.

Sam was driving the hunter crazy like that, as Dean wasn't able to touch him any further, straddled by the taller man above him. - Completely at his mercy.

The hunter groaned and moaned, holding onto Sam's hips, trying to urge him on to go a _bit_ faster. He was chanting Sam's name, whispered filthy praises and promises, pressing the younger man with every _down_ into his lap.

Sam was getting louder with every guided trust of the hunter, never failing the small puddle of nerves deep inside, when he impaled himself on him.

Sam could've drawn it out for hours. _He could have._

Wouldn't it have been for the hunter, filled with new determination.

Dean sat up, wrapping his strong arms around Sam's torso, pressing him down hard on his hard thick length, teasing a desperate whimper from the man in his lap.

Sam was no longer able to move – not an inch. Instead Dean was. The hunter drew out of him almost completely and trust back up, making Sam jolt and gripping the bathtub some harder.

Low grunts fell from the hunter's lips, as he thrust up into the tight heat that enveloped him like a save haven of silent promises. And Sam answered with increasing moans as he scraped over the sensitive spot deep inside him with every single push.

The water swapped over the edge, as Dean rammed into him. Their bodies slick with water and sweat. Dean buried his face into Sam's back, digging his fingers into the younger man's flesh as the tension beneath his navel increased with every thrust upwards, with every deep throaty moan that fell from Sam's lips.

He pounded into him harder, until Sam was shivering, whimpering for release.

Faster, until Sam's whole form was trembling and the muscles of his stomach fluttering and his hole tightening around the hunter.

One of Dean's hands slipped down towards Sam's straining erection and his fingers curled around the velvet-like skin tightly, starting to draw the soft skin up and down. Causing Sam to make the most delicious sounds the hunter had ever heard in his life, working him up towards unbelievable heights of ecstasy.

A seasoned twist of Dean's wrist, and a flick with his thump over the head of Sam's precome-slick slit, and he felt his muscles flutter around him and clench – and that was all that it took for the hunter to fly over the edge with Sam.

Riding out their orgasms together, Dean clung to Sam, holding onto him, letting himself glide back into the luke-warm water with the younger man in his lap.

Sam let his head loll back against the hunter's shoulder, tilting his head to the side and slightly upwards to meet Dean's lips. Then they sealed their lips over each others and a long-drawn, lingering, sloppy-wet kiss followed. All soft lips and tender tongues caressing each other's mouths.

When they parted, so close like people could possibly be, they laid there for a long while. Until the water got sensitively cool.

"'m starving ...", Sam muttered and sniffed, tangling his fingers with the ones of the hunter.

"Me too ...", Dean muttered back, "... let's get outa here before it gets to cold."

Though the two of them stayed some time longer in the cooling water, unable to get apart just yet.

Only unwillingly they parted and got cleaned up, never letting go of each other completely in the process. Not even while they dried off and got dressed again.

The immense need of feeling each other's body was simply overwhelming.

Instead of getting back to bed, like Dean had first suggested, Sam urged him to get something to eat.

Though – after their bathroom-exercises – Sam felt even more wobbly on his legs and even more drained. But completely satisfied and content.

Dean walked beside him, an arm wrapped around the younger man's small of his back, holding him close.

They made their way into the kitchen slowly, glad to find no one but Garth there.

The wolfman smiled knowingly at the both of them as he turned towards the arriving couple, filling two glasses with water and bringing them to the table.

Sam took his gratefully and gulped it down in one go.

"Easy there, tiger. - You're gonna make yourself sick." Dean nipped on his and got up. His knees not less shaky as Sam's at the moment. "Something's left from breakfast?"

Garth turned around and pointed at the fridge. "Kept something up for the both of you. - Sausages 'n gravy. - Bread, butter ..." He looked over at Sam who seemed like he was getting paler by the minute, watching him cautiously, before he looked back at the hunter.

"You okay over there?" Garth's nose wrinkled up, as if he wanted to sniff for something. But there was not a lot beside the shampoo and sex and come he could sense right then.

Sam nodded, somehow starting to feel miserably. "Yeah ... think so ... - Dean?", he looked up.

The hunter turned around with the butter in one hand and the plate with sausages in the other one. "It really doesn't matter ... Just something." ANYTHING, his body yelled. "I don't care. - Something to eat ... please." To his own surprise he sounded pretty much like begging.

Dean gave him a short nod, as he noticed that Sam was getting agitated. "Fine. - Sausages, gravy, bread with butter ..."

He chose to put the things onto the table in front of them both and hurried up to cut off a piece of bread, buttering it.

In the meanwhile, Sam had already sneaked a sausage from the plate and was stuffing it into his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed.

"Wowowow ... slow down, Sam.", Garth was at Dean's side the very moment he recognized that something wasn't right. "You that hungry?", he asked curiously, since he hadn't seen the man eat like that ... like ever ... like he was _ravenous_.

Sam was about to grab another saussage, when Dean stopped him with a gentle hand over his.

"You're gonna make yourself sick. - Give me a moment, 'kay?", he locked his concerned gaze with Sam.

And his partner nodded, though somehow utterly staring at the food right before him.

Dean prepared two slices of bread with butter on a plate and three sausages. Garth sat down across the two of them and chewed on a piece of bread, as he watched the youngest among them stuffing the food greedily in his mouth.

"Sam.", Dean said in a warning manner. "It's all yours ... Just go slow, 'kay?"

The hunter picked one of the three left sausages and chewed it slowly as if to show Sam how to do it. And he followed his example.

Minutes later, Sam stared at his empty plate a bit devastated and back up at Dean and then at Garth.

"You want some more?", Dean asked as if he couldn't quite believe it.

Sam nodded hesitantly, sucking in his lower lip, not able to look at either of them.

Garth and Dean shared a short glance, when Dean got up on his feet and moved over to the fridge. He lurked inside, finding onions, vegetables, apples, a giant piece of meat (probably supposed for dinner), gherkins, milk and some other things that wouldn't taste as good as long as they were raw.

"Not really something in there ... gonna get into the storage and open a tin, huh?" Dean turned around and closed the fridge.

Sam's hands were shaking, the color of his face definitely not as it should be like.

"Hey. - It's no problem, Sammy, 'kay?" Dean gave him a reassuring but worried smile. "You can have whatever you want ..."

Sam eyed the hunter for a while before he nodded. "'m sorry, Dean. - I am ... I'm ... I don't know ..." His lasts words sounded miserable and desperate.

"It's okay, okay? - I'll open up one of the cans, sweetheart." He winked at his partner before he went into the storage.

"I'll go and get Jo." Garth got up from the bench. "She maybe knows what's goin' on ..."

Sam looked up at his friend and nodded absently.

* * *

Dean had already opened and warmed up two cans of stuffed bell peppers with tomato-sauce, when Garth returned with the female nephilim.

"What's goin' on?", she looked down at Sam, who was about to claim the pot with the warmed up food. "Sam?"

"Ravenous." The young man smushed the stuffed bell peppers in the bot and stirred a bit, before he took the first bite into his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut and he moaned. Relishing the taste of it. "So good ...", he muttered around the goop in his mouth.

"Knock yourself out." Dean sat ont he edge of the table, a watchful gaze on the younger man.

"When did that start?", Jo asked confused, looking up at Dean, who seemed to take the whole thing cooler as the rest.

"Right after he woke up. - Said he's hungry. Wanted to have a shower before we're getting something to eat ..." Dean Winchester of course spared the slippery facts from the past. "... He looked like collapsing short before he started to eat ..."

Jo shook her head as if to clear her mind. "I don't know ... could be because of lack of energy after the counterstrike against the demon ...", she trailed off and laid her flat palm on Sam's forehead, closing her eyes for a second, before she pulled away again. "Yep. - He needs to reload. Whatever it is he did, it drained him." She smiled reassuring. "Nothing to worry about. Sam'll be fine."

Dean settled back beside Sam, ripping a piece of bread off for himself. "Where're Kev and Cas?", he asked.

Sam had slowed down with his pace, though he took delicate care to wipe even the last drop of tomato-sauce up with a piece of bread.

"Hiding mister KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken) in the woods. - And trading some stuff with the Millers.", Garth explained – still having a watchful eye on Sam. "Said something about picking the smoked meat up ..."

Sam shoved the pot away from him and rubbed his belly. - Hell, he should've been too full to even talk, he should be close to burst by now. But he actually wasn't.

He still could get some more into himself ... though he didn't dare to ask. He couldn't raid the fridge and storage as if it was his own.

Without being asked, the pot was taken away and a plate with apple-chips and chestnuts was placed on the table before him. He followed the hand that drew back from the plates to identify that it were Garth's.

Sam met the wereman's gaze, a guilty expression on his face. But the wolfman just chuckled and shook his head. "Dude. - You probably saved our lives. The damn bastard could've killed us all. You gotta eat, man."

Dean nudged his man into the side. "Heard the guy. - I know what you're thinkin'. The storage is stuffed full with food and I honestly doubt that you'd be able to eat it all up."

Sam seemed to think for a long moment. Hell yeah, he was still hungry – he felt like starved out. SO he carried on, emptying the plate with chestnuts and the one with the dried apple-chips.

And – finally – after another two cans of peaches the hunger was defeated and Sam looked a lot better now.

"Thanks.", he muttered and shared looks with the hunter and Garth.

Dean chuckled and slung an arm around Sam's lower back. "Still some space for dinner later?"

Sam nodded with a shy smile. "Sure think so ..." He stole a glance at Dean.

"Fine. - So ... where were we actually?", the hunter asked Garth.

"Castiel was just talking about having a talk with us later. - Said something about angels and a plan ..." Garth muttered pensively. "How did that bastard even get out?", he asked in disbelieve and glanced up at the seasoned hunter.

Dean just shrugged, guilt overcoming him all over again. "No clue. - Haven't had a look at the basement yet. Might as well gonna check it out anyway."

While the wolfman started on the dinner, Dean took Sam with him to the basement. Sure the both of them weren't in best shape yet.

Dean a bit limping and clutching to his stomach from time to time, and Sam swaying on his feet ... just _adorable_.

Both of them decided after the short trip downstairs and upstairs again, that it'd be better for the both of them to sit down somewhere and the closest – most comfortable – thing they found was the couch in the library.

As much had to be said: They made it there barely on their feet. Their small intermezzo in the bathtub obviously not making things better for them.

"I'm gettin' too old for that shit.", Dean growled and slumped back, wrapping an arm around Sam's shoulders.

The younger man immediately gave in and leaned into the hunter's side. "You sure you didn't get hurt worse?", Sam asked concerned.

But Dean waved him off. "Had worse, baby boy.", he groaned low, shifting until he felt more comfortable.

"Maybe you should lay down. - Get some sleep, huh?" Sam looked up at him concerned. "Maybe you shouldn't be on your feet ... I shouldn't have-"

"Hush." Dean tugged the younger man's head down in his lap and buried his hands in the soft hair. "We had pretty awesome sex in the bathtub. - No matter what. It was DEFINITELY worth it." There was a mock grin forming on his face. "So shut up."

Sam twisted and turned, until he was facing towards the hunter. He then fumbled around until his hand had found a way under Dean's shirt and spread his giant hand over his belly, stroking it gently.

The hunter soon leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "That's good.", he muttered, scrapping carefully over Sam's scalp. "Don't stop ..."

Sam chuckled and kept on with rubbing gentle circles over the abused area, until the hunter's minds started to fog and drift away ...

* * *

_Days rushed by ... _

... Dean and Sam were okay. Well, they were better than just okay. They did amazingly well. Except the decision that lay before them let appear dark clouds above their minds.

They had discussed that topic before – _all of them_. Had talked about the pro and contras and the possibilities if the whole thing would go south.

But one thing was for sure: They couldn't go on like that. One day either angels or demons would get to them. One way or another, no matter how careful they were.

They knew what the demons wanted. Now was the question, if the angels truly wanted to reopen the gates of heaven and what it would cost the nephilim.

So there they sat, gathered around the big table in the hall ...

"The angels don't have a lot of mojo left ... so what could possibly go wrong? We've angel-blades, we've holy oil.", Kevin recalled. "If something goes wrong we just burn that motherfuckers ..." His attention snapped towards Castiel, who stared at the prophet shell-shocked for a moment. "Oh ... sorry Cas." Kevin cleared his throat. "You know what I mean."

"We've to plan that through. - Every single aspect about it, or we're screwed to hell and back." Dean leaned back, staring at the map pensively. "Angel-mojo or not. They are still dangerous. More powerful than we are. Sure they are weakened, but so is Cas. - We can't start that off half-cocked. Not even when the invitation comes from us. We don't know about their real intentions." He paused. "If nephilims are in fact as powerful as the demon said ... it could be that they also want to kill you." Dean shared a look with Sam and one with Jo. "Deal or not. - Angels aren't as trustworthy as the lore tells."

"They can try, Dean." She rolled with her eyes annoyed. "I'm a big girl. I survived – until now. I can defend myself. - And as soon as Sam knows how it works, he'll be able too."

The younger man sunk a bit down in his chair, his cheeks flushed. No, he still had no clue how he had made that glowing thing. Maybe it had just worked because he had been so full of fear that Dean'd get hurt, and so full of pure white rage at the very point that his instincts kicked finally in ...

"I don't doubt that." Dean gave back at her. "I am sure you can handle such situations very good. - But one day – and trust me that is going to happen – you're gonna be not careful enough and they'll get the drop on you. And then you're dead or even worse."

Castiel nodded in approval. "The plan is like that: We will summon Balthazar. He's going to be our messenger in this. We'll give him an envelope with the date and the hour we'll wait for them in the warehouse. Jo's going to come with us, since she's the more experienced out there and knows how to use her abilities. - We will talk to them, see what they are telling ... _what they want._ If it's truly about the gates of heaven." He paused with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "And when that's done we will look further."

"Though it's dangerous isn't it?", Sam threw in, concern written all over his face. "I could go with you, maybe I can help somehow?"

"No. - I don't want you to come with. It's saver here, trust me." For Sam it was a miracle how the hunter managed such a reassuring smile, even when he couldn't be sure how it'd work out with the damn meeting ...

"It's just me, Cas, Jo and Garth. The rest stays here ..." Dean informed them all with a stern look, not allowing any critic about his decision.

Kevin huffed. Though internally he was pretty relieved that he didn't have to leave the bunker, and even more relieved, that he wouldn't be damned to stay there all on his own. He had gotten too used to company ever since the hunter had first taken the hooker with him.

"So, we're clear?", the hunter asked.

Everyone nodded in compliance.

_... to be continued_

* * *

_BACON? DO I GET SOME?_


	28. Chapter 28 The Ritual

I am sorry for the delay, but I had three long shifts in a row and I'm always falling into bed after shower like a dead woman.

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 29 ~ The Ritual**_

THEN:

_"It's just me, Cas, Jo and Garth. The rest stays here ..." Dean informed them all with a stern look, not allowing any critic about his decision._

_Kevin huffed. Though internally he was pretty relieved that he didn't have to leave the bunker, and even more relieved, that he wouldn't be damned to stay there all on his own. He had gotten too used to company ever since the hunter had first taken the hooker with him._

_"So, we're clear?", the hunter asked._

_Everyone nodded in compliance._

* * *

NOW:

The following evening, they summoned Balthazar in the basement.

First the angel had denied that he knew anything about a group of angels that was looking for Sam's and Jo's kind. He obviously didn't want to get involved in whatever was going on.

Though they finally found the angel's weak-spot and after a couple of snarky remarks and cocky comments, Balthazar gave in.

They gave him the coordinates and time where they wanted to meet up with the angels, in case they were interested.

* * *

The meeting was two days ahead. Enough time to improve their plan.

So they had dinner after summoning one of Castiel's brothers. The air was thick with tension and the small group of people was silent.

No one spoke a word during the dinner, trying to hold the unpleasant things away for some time, before they'd start to work it out more detailed.

They had chosen the warehouse for their meeting. It was the only place they knew in detail.

The only place besides the bunker, from wich they had a sketch of the floor plan.

Dean figured they could need all kinds of advantage and so they studied the possible exits in case they needed to get out fast.

When the table in the kitchen was cleaned up and the coffee-machine roared to life, Sam started to clean the dishes, while the others sat around the table and stared at the plan, obviously trying to memorize every single room.

They started to discuss if one of them should stay at the outside, or if all of them should go in. They discussed the kind of traps they could use for the angels in case they wouldn't be cooperative, or the whole thing would get too hairy.

When Sam was done with the dishes, he joined them. Though he just listened.

It was late that night, when they finally had made up their mind about the traps and all the other stuff and parted.

They would get a couple of hours sleep before Castiel, Dean and Garth would head out to get the warehouse set up for the meeting, cleaning it from walkers (if there were some) and locking it down until friday morning.

Meanwhile, Dean had other priorities. Sam had been extremely quiet, hadn't talked at all. Had just listened and observed and stared at the plan. Even on their way back to their room he had seemed deep in thoughts and had nearly took off into his former bedroom, wouldn't have Dean grabbed his hand and pulled him with him into the opposite direction.

Finally inside, Dean walked over to the bed and got his pyjamas and the ones of Sam out under the pillows. He then looked back at his boyfriend, who still stood there – somehow lost – and watched him for a moment.

"Sammy?", he asked.

The man's head snapped up and looked at the hunter bewildered, watching him as he petted on a stack of clothes.

Sam just nodded and walked over beside him.

They then got dressed in their pyjamas and went into the bathroom to brush their teeth before they hit the hay.

The both of them crept under the covers, pulling them up until just their heads lurked out.

Sam instantly turned around and curled up against Dean. Hell, it still was a miracle to the hunter how the giant man was able to make himself that small.

The hunter wrapped his arms around Sam and tugged him close.

"What if they really want to open the gates of heaven? What if they need one of us as a sacrifice?", Sam asked after a long while of silence.

Neither of them was able to close their eyes and to just fall asleep. There were too many questions to be asked. Too many things that weren't clear.

Dean cleared his throat and blew out a thoughtful breath. "They won't get the both of you for a sacrifice. - That much's for sure.", he answered silently. "We won't deliver neither. Jo nor you. - No matter what."

Sam seemed to relax a bit. Though not completely. "What if they gonna lie?"

A smirk formed on Dean's lips. "We're not going there. Not yet. - I first want to know what's going on and what they want exactly."

Sam nodded. "You know ... I'm grateful to have you.", he continued after a long while of silence. "It's like finding a home after all these years. - I like it. I like the bunker. I like you ... It's nice not to be treated like ...", he trailed off.

"Told you you're no longer a prostitute. - And sure as hell no one of us thinks that of you. Neither do I. So just ... forget about it, huh? Try to let it go, try to forget ..."

Sam nestled closer to _his_ hunter, sneaking his uppermost leg over the hunter's. "'can't forget.", he muttered silently.

"Then I'll make you." He couldn't hide the sneaky grin on his lips, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "With all i got."

The hunter laid his hand on Sam's cheek and he looked up, locking his gaze with the hunter's.

"I'll do everything for you, baby boy.", he whispered, truth gleaming in his emerald-green circles. "Everything it takes to make you feel like you're supposed to ..."

Sam sniffed.

Dean's look flickered at the other man's soft lips and back up at his eyes, coming closer with the moment. They narrowed slowly, until their lips met and both men's eyes fluttered closed. The hunter let his lips linger on Sam's, tasting the sweetness and toothpaste on him.

They haven't had sex that night. They just lay there and talked some more. Wrapped into each other as close as even possible under the covers, until they fell asleep.

* * *

Dean didn't wake Sam the next morning. Instead he wrote a note and laid it on the pillow, sneaking out of the room and the bunker.

Though the generators hadn't turned on yet, when Sam's eyes opened lazily. Instantly he felt – he KNEW – that Dean wasn't there. The place beside him was cool and an extra blanket had been tugged over him.

He reached for the light-switch and blinked his eyes open, giving his vision some moments to clear. He looked towards his right side, where Dean should've been. But instead there was a piece of paper.

"_We're at the warehouse._

_Back in a couple of hours. _

_Love you, sweetheart. _

_Dean_"

Sam smiled dumbfounded and slumped back into the pillow, cradling the note in his hands. Maybe he could make something for them – for _Dean_ – when they returned.

Sam turned on his side and exhaled slowly, his eyes fluttering shut. He could use some more sleep anyway and Dean and his friends wouldn't be back 'til noon ...

Two minutes later he turned back on his back, his eyes snapping open.

_Nope. _

There was no way he could go back to sleep again.

* * *

That day, he cooked. There was smoked meat in the fridge, potatoes and other vegetables from the green house.

First off he started on a small breakfast for Kevin, Jo and himself.

The first one to get into the kitchen sleep-drunken was the prophet. Shortly followed by Joanna (not looking much better than Kevin).

They ate their breakfast together.

Kevin went back to his tablet, while Sam went with Jo into the library. She explained to Sam how she made her abilities work. - And as the young nephilim had guessed, it was all about emotions and concentration.

So before he'd be able to do the things Jo was capable of, he had to _find_ his abilities. She explained to him, that it was like a quest. Since Jo hadn't ever had to hide what she was and what she felt (kudos to her incredible parents), she grew with them, and the abilities grew with her. With a single snap of her fingers she was able to skip a book from the shelve three feet behind her. Though she wasn't able to do anything else until now with her telekinesis. She explained it like tiny shots of willpower – Everything else she had tried so far had been pretty exhausting and draining and knocked her out for several hours streight.

What was the reason why she had collapsed all those weeks ago in the abandoned house, when they had first met her.

But it definitely reached out to throw a knife at someone, Jo told him with an amused chuckle.

Since Sam had been forced to suppress his abilities for years, his mind wouldn't want to deal with them again, she explained. There was even the possibility that he didn't have abilities. Jo had met a few nephilims with small to none power.

So she showed him how to meditate to regain balance over his mind. One of the first steps to find what he actually should be capable of. Because Jo was sure that Sam must have them. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to deep-fry the black-eyed guy back then.

So the two of them laid on the tiles on their backs. Eyes closed. Their arms beside them, palms down. Their breaths even and deep, their heartbeats calm and strong.

There were probably ten minutes of meditating, before silent snores where heard from Sam's direction. His mouth stood slightly agape, his cheeks a bit flushed. - _And fast asleep. _

Jo's eyes flew open and she chuckled silently. Something she totally had expected. Falling asleep showed, that Sam's body and mind were still exhausted and needed rest. So as soon as he would've learned to listen to his body, his meditations would work better.

Jo hopped up and looked at Sam with a genuine smile for a long moment, before she moved over to the shelves and picked up the book that she had skipped from it earlier. She settled on the couch with it and skipped it open, having a watchful eye on the man on the floor.

After a short while Sam's skin seemed to become brighter ... as if a light had been illuminated deep within his body, and Jo's smile widened knowingly.

A couple of hours passed until Sam's eyes fluttered open and stared at the ceiling for a brief second, listening to the sounds around him. He blinked lazily and looked towards the couch, where Jo had fallen asleep with a book in her lap.

So much for meditating then ...

Though, he thought he haven't ever had such a relaxing nap EVER.

Still groggy from just awaking, he shuffled into the kitchen, pouring himself water into a glass and emptied it in two big gulps. He then glanced at the clock and his half-open eyes widened.

"Holy crap.", he cursed and his head snapped towards the fridge. He had to start lunch if he wanted to be done _before_ his friends would get back.

Sam hurried up with chopping the meat and vegetables into small pieces. He then put the meat into a pot and started the stove, roasting it with the onions. He then went for the potatoes and peeled them, giving them into another pot with water and put a lid on it.

He then sat down on the bench with another glass of water, going over to the boiling food every now and then and checking on its progress.

* * *

The longer it took the meat to get soft, the more impatient Sam grew. He WANTED to be done when Dean and the others came back. One of the less things he could make himself useful of anyway – and not even _that_ he was capable of – obviously.

So he stood at the stove and added the chopped vegetables to the big pot with the steaming meat. He leaned with his hips against the sideboard, staring at the big pot as if it'd go faster that way.

Suddenly there were hands on his sides and a body behind him.

"Looks awesome, Sammy.", a familiar voice whispered into his ear.

Sam leaned back into the body of the shorter man behind him and covered the man's hand with his, pulling them forward, so that they were wrapped around his middle.

"Not ready yet." The younger of the both of them turned around and sealed his lips over the hunters.

Dean cupped Sam's butt cheeks in his hands and pushed his hips against Sam's with a slight rub.

Sam pulled back after the lingering kiss and smiled, though it faded as he saw the small cut on the hunter's cheek. A thin red line ... actually nothing to worry about, but something that showed that he have had gotten into trouble.

"What happened?", Sam asked curiously, ghosting with his fingertips over the cut, his eyes flickering towards Dean's. "You've had troubles?"

The hunter chuckled and gave him a peck on the lips. "Nothing serious. - Got distracted and a walker ... well ... you know, got the drop on me." The hunter eyed _his_ Sam longingly, a smug smile on his lips. "Nothin' serious."

Sam gave him a short nod, not sure if the hunter wasn't lying about that. He knew life out there wasn't easy. And some walkers (special the newborns) weren't that easy to kill. They were still strong and a very serious threat to everyone. Even hunters. PLUS: They were some silent creeps.

"Lunch's gonna take a while. - Jo showed me how to meditate and I fell asleep ..."

"Don't worry, baby boy." He squeezed the former hooker's globes gently. "We'll wait." There was something lingering behind this words, the way he said them ...

A wave of arousal flooded Sam's body, letting his jeans grew a bit tighter.

Castiel strode into the kitchen and went streight for the pot on the stove, sniffing at it. "Smells well, Sam." He looked up at the taller man.

Sam smiled at him, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Ready in thirty.", he said and turned back around in the hunter's embrace and stirred in the pot. "I don't know how to bake bread ... so ... I've got potatoes.", he looked curiously and a bit embarrassed at the angel, as if he was asking if that was okay.

Castiel gave him a short nod. "Potatoes are cool. - Hey, anyone know's were Joanna is?"

"Library, couch.", Sam answered and poked in one of the steaming potatoes.

With that the angel took off.

"I'll get you when I'm done!", Sam called after him, rolling with his hips as he focused back on the food, his denim-covered butt pushing against the hunter's lower department, rousing a low growl from him.

Dean pushed back against him.

Sam chuckled and did it again.

"You're goin' on like that, sweetheart and we won't make it for lunch. - I swear.", the hunter warned him, his voice hoarse.

* * *

They made it until after lunch. Dean shooting hungry looks across the table where Sam was sitting between Garth and Kevin. Sam teasing the hunter with running his tongue over his lips more often than usual.

"Shower it is.", Dean stated with a full belly and leaned back as if to show how his belt was straining under the force of his full stomach. He then glanced at Sam, asking him without words if he would join him.

Sam blushed and tilted his head to the side, telling him a single look that he'd follow in a couple of minutes.

Despite the fact that the others FOR SURE knew what the both of them would be up to, Sam still seemed to be shy about some things. For once there was the fact that he obviously hadn't noticed that the bunker's walls weren't as sound proof as he may thought. And second, he obviously still tried to not make it too obvious what the both of them were doing when they were alone ...

Living in each other's pockets sometimes wasn't fun. Not when you wanted to have some private time . It was like at least one other person knew what you were doing or where you were. No matter what.

Sure everyone respected the other one's dignity, otherwise it wouldn't work the way it did anyway. But there were times, when you wanted to wear ear protection or have thicker walls.

When Dean was gone, Sam went streight for the dishes in the sink. He hadn't even turned on the tab, when Garth appeared at his left side, and Castiel to his right, taking the sponge and a plate from him and urged him to back off and follow Dean.

Sometimes it was real nice to not having to pretend, Sam thought.

* * *

Dean had already stripped down and turned on the water in the shower stall, when he heard bare feet shuffling towards the bathroom-door. The next moment it opened, and a already naked Sam came in and closed the door behind him again.

The hunter eyed his partner, a lingering affectionated look roaming all over the slender form, the only thing Dean reminded him of what Sam had been through. That and the scars on his chest, side and shoulder.

Otherwise Sam's skin was smooth and even. Free of marks and scars.

Not so Dean's. His whole body was marked, mostly his torso and calves ... Sam hadn't really noticed until now. Now that Dean was standing there like that, in the steam of the hot water, wich fogged the room surely but slowly.

The hunter stepped into the spray and extended his hand towards Sam, offering him to come in (not that Sam wouldn't have if he hadn't).

Their eyes locked. Green eyes darkened with arousal. The hunter still looked loving and gentle ... and though there was something feral and dangerous lingering in those circles.

Sam accepted the invitation and followed Dean's lead. The hunter stepped back a bit making place for the younger man.

So they showered together, and they kissed. All wet and slippery. Tongues and teeth and hands roaming over skin.

Though they didn't stay in the bathroom for long. Soon they turned the water down, toweled each other off and went into the bedroom, barely parting on their way to the bed.

Before the hunter could even catch a thought on pushing Sam down onto the mattress, he was turned around and shoved down gently. A surprised grunt was ripped from him, when he hit the soft mattress, and Sam was over him, kissing him passionated and though soft, licking the taste of typically Dean out of his mouth.

When they parted, the hunter was beyond breathless and erected. His hard member right beside Sam's, snug in between their pelves, rubbing the tender velvet-like skin against each other. The younger man trailed kisses down over Dean's throat, sucking and nibbling his way down, over sensitive and scarred skin, his elbows and arms flanking the hunter on the bed.

Ever so slowly he kissed his way down, brushed feather like over the hunter's sternum and solar plexus, teasing the most sweet moans from his boyfriend.

Somehow Dean's hands managed to get a hold of Sam's hair and he buried them among the soft locks, holding onto them with a gentle grip as his body arched up into the tenderest of caresses.

Whenever the hunter tugged lightly on Sam's hair the kisses were interrupted by short gasps or other silent noises Sam always made when they were like this.

Soon Sam's lips found what he had been looking for. The hunter's navel and the short curly locks that led straight into the promised land. Sam shifted down between the hunter's thighs, his hands resting on the man's hip bones, while he licked a wet stripe over his glorious manhood on his way to the tip.

Ever so gently, Sam wrapped his lips around him, taking delicate care not to scrap him with his teeth. And then he sank down on him, taking him all in without hesitation.

And Dean Winchester trembled, fisting the younger man's hair a bit tighter, arousing a low moan from Sam's throat that sent delicious vibrations all through his over-sensitive body.

After a long while with teasing the hunter with his tongue and lips, he slowly increased the suction and started to swirl his tongue around the hunter's hard length whenever he reached the head, moaning low around him, well knowing what it'd do to the hunter.

With every down of Sam's head he took him in deeper, taking one of his hands for help for the part of the hunter's manhood he wouldn't reach any other way. In the same time he held Dean down with a palm sprawled out over his belly, hindering on pushing up unexpectedly.

It took the hunter all that he got, not to thrust upwards, trying to take control. He knew this wasn't a blowjob. This was trust. Sam trusted him enough to do this, trusted him, that he wouldn't just fuck into his mouth, make him choke on his erection.

Sam showed him that he trusted him enough to do this. And Dean showed Sam, that he didn't need to be in control.

It didn't last long, until the hunter's erratic breaths came in harsh short gasps and moans and cries whenever Sam flicked his tongue over the slit of Dean's manhood. And Sam increased his pace, bobbing up and down on him, making those twists with his wrist.

And then the world exploded into white and black dots for the Winchester. And Sam drank him down, swallowing every single spurt that Dean gave him and his pace slowed down and ebbed away, until he pulled off of the hunter's manhood.

Somehow Dean managed to let go of Sam's hair and pull him up, so that they were lying beside each other on one eye level.

Dean sealed his lips over Sam's and licked into his mouth, tasting the remains of himself in the warm, wet hole, what made him even more eager and his cock twitching.

Sam curled up around the hunter, looking beyond satisfied as if he just had the most mind-blowing orgasm in his life.

Dean Winchester couldn't leave Sam like that. Not willingly. Hell, he wanted to get himself hard again and ready for another round. He wanted to make love, wanted to be inside Sam, wanted to feel him surrounding him.

And hell – he wouldn't have been a Winchester if that wasn't possible, right?

So without hesitation, he rolled the both of them over, so that Sam was on his back and Dean on top. Before the man beneath him could even think of protesting, he covered Sam's lips with his in a lingering kiss, one of his hands running up and down on Sam's flank gently.

"My turn.", Dean whispered huskily with a mug grin, looking into big hazel-green eyes. "So sweet." His hands traveled down the younger man's body once again, but this time they didn't stay on his side. They urged their way across Sam's belly button and further south, where a giant erection was poking into the hunter's stomach. "I wanna taste you too, baby boy.", he whispered, running a fingertip down over Sam's shaft.

Sam shuddered beneath him, looking insecurely up into a pair of lust-darkened emerald-green eyes. They actually hadn't done THAT before. - God knew why ... it was just like that. Maybe because Sam wasn't sure if the hunter would even WANT to ...

A feeling like an explosion wiped those thoughts away in a matter of a seconds. The rush of pleasure tore through his body, when Dean had hit his sweet spot with the pads of his fingers, deep inside him.

After what seemed like an eternity of teasing and sweet torture, Sam released himself down the hunter's throat with a shuddering cry.

Yes, Dean had proofed himself well and truly. And when he pulled off of Sam, he was rock-hard all over again. Not that he would've complained. EVER.

So the both of them made love. Slow and loving, their lips sealed , when the hunter pushed into him, scrapping that special bundle of nerves all over again and again. It was like a never-ending train of arousal.

Both of them relished in the feeling of being connected like that. Of having the opportunity of being _close. _Of being _one_.

* * *

Their bodies were cooling down under the thin blanket that was covering their heated forms.

Dean lay on his back, limbs stretched away from him, except the arm with whom he held Sam close.

Sam lay beside him, head on the hunter's chest and one hand resting on the man's belly, his eyes closed. A comfortable noise fell from Sam's lips and he snuggled closer, shifting his legs slightly.

"Promise me, that you'll take care, 'kay?" Sam didn't need to look up at the hunter's face to know that he was rolling his eyes.

"Of course I will. - I'll take exquisite care, that nothing' of your property gets ruined." The hunter chuckled hoarsely and tugged the man in his arm closer. "Don't you worry. We're prepared for everything."

And Sam took the hunter's word on this. He just hoped it was true and Dean didn't say it because he thought he needed to. He hoped that everything would go down easily, just as it had sounded like when they had talked about their plan.

* * *

It came ahead to the day, when Dean, Cas, Garth and Jo headed out in the early morning hours. Neither of them had gotten a lot of sleep. Specially not Sam. He had been clinging to the hunter as if it was the last time they'd be together. As if this was the end. As if Sam would never see the Winchester again.

_... to be continued_


	29. Chapter 29The Sacrifices We Make

FIRST OFF: I figured you guys need an extra chapter today for the fact that I let y'all wait so long, and since i would've posted THIS CHAPTER today wouldn't it have been for the delay.

HERE WE GO :)

Huh ... I did it. - I want to warn everyone who still sticks with me and this story: you could get into serious need of tissues at the end of this chapter ...

* * *

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 29 ~ Sacrifices We Make**_

THEN:

_"Of course I will. - I'll take exquisite care, that nothing' of your property gets ruined." The hunter chuckled hoarsely and tugged the man in his arm closer. "Don't you worry. We're prepared for everything."_

_And Sam took the hunter's word on this. He just hoped it was true and Dean didn't say it because he thought he needed to. He hoped that everything would go down easily, just as it had sounded like when they had talked about their plan._

* * *

NOW:

The ritual sounded like the best idea ever to get the gates of heaven open again. Castiel seemed to believe, that they didn't use their intends as pretense to get their hands on the nephilims.  
The small group of angels depended on five human looking creatures. They were clothed like anyone else out there ... but their appearance was a different one. They LOOKED different. At least to Dean.

To the hunter's surprise, the angels didn't try anything. They walked into the warehouse, told them what their intentions were, tried to reassure – mostly Jo – that they would never hurt a nephilim knowingly (... and other crap, Dean didn't quite believe. He needed to think and sleep and talk about it with the others).

They'd meet up again in a couple of days at the same place, same time. Something the hunter wasn't quite happy about.

There was still the possibility that these angels just wanted to win their trust to make their own plans.

Though Joanna seemed pretty convinced that the angels were – in fact – telling the truth.

They truly wanted to reopen the gates of heaven. They wanted to fight the evil on earth at the side of the human race ... and though Dean Winchester figured that this couldn't be true. He knew angels. Angel's weren't that cooperative, except they wanted something bigger, something they all didn't know yet.

_Angels were lying. _

Okay, maybe the guy named Gadreel was telling the truth. He truly seemed to want things to go different. He truly looked like the honest type. - But then again, weren't angels supposed to appear that way?

Other than that ... he felt pretty relieved that the angels didn't know about the second nephilim or the prophet.

* * *

Their way back to the bunker was a quite relaxed drive. Some of the tension had obviously fallen away from the small group.

When they entered, there was Sam in the hall, sitting in one of the chairs on the table, reading in some book.

A gentle smile formed on the hunter's face as he looked down at his partner, who was too sunken into his lecture to even recognize his returning friends. Just as the door of the bunker slid shut and fell back into the lock, his attention got drawn away and his head snapped up.

He instantly was on his feet and waiting at the foot of the stairs for them (mainly Dean), before he started to ask questions.

"How did it go?" Big hazel-eyes darted between the four of them, observing everyone's face as if to wait for a special reaction.

"Don't know yet.", Dean flashed him a small smile. "Gonna talk later 'bout it. - I'm starving ... and tired."

Sam stole a hurried kiss from the older man and looked at Jo then, who brushed past the both of them. She seemed relaxed and somehow happy and relieved ... and her soul seemed brighter as the days before, as if she felt hope or something like that.

So Joanna seemed to be good with whatever they had been talking about.

The others on the other side ... they didn't seem that confident about what had been spoken.

"Kevin made some oatmeal." Sam said out loud. "Just have to warm it up for y'all."

They nodded in union.

Sam stole another peck from Dean's lips before he hurried into the kitchen and warmed up the food. Minutes later he returned with a tray to the library. Four bowls on it with steaming oatmeal.

"It's with sweetener. - We're low on sugar." Sam informed shortly and put the tray on the small table before the couch.

Internally Sam was waiting for them to spill. He wanted to know how it went, what everyone thought ...

Though every one of them seemed deep in thoughts.

* * *

Later that day, Sam was working on his meditation-tactics and manged to fall asleep every single time so far within minutes. Jo was always near by, having observant eyes on the young man, even when it looked like she was reading, or doing something else around him.

Surely, Sam made progress. Even when he didn't realize. But Jo did. She knew exactly what was going on with him. - He was about to find a way to attach to the power that lingered inside him. The first step of finding out what his abilities definitely were.

Before Castiel went into his room to get a couple of hours sleep, he stopped by at Kevin's and asked him to check the angel-tablet for a certain spell that involved angel's and demon's blood, special herbs and oils and sigils. He left a sheet of paper behind, wich Gadreel had given to him, so they would be able to check the spell over.

The angel then did go into his room. But as soon as the bunker fell still, Jo sneaked out of her room and went two rooms further, where Castiel was meant to rest.

* * *

Dean leaned back on the couch and blew out a deep sigh. "So ... we're honestly going to do that?"

Castiel shifted his hand a bit, so that his small finger was brushing Jo's.

Kevin sat up, rustling with the papers he held in his hands. "It's true. - There is a spell that is similar to the one the angels have been talking about. Though this one requires demon's AND angel's blood and it's for opening a portal into heaven. - They changed a few things though ..." He paused with a sigh. "... blood of a nephilim, feathers of an angel, hair of an earthly being and the nephilim has to say the spell." He paused again. "Since it has to be done on consecrated ground, I would say we choose a cemetery or church that's not too far away from the bunker. - We don't know what's going to happen when the ritual is done, and I'm sure it would be better when we aren't too far away from here ..."

Dean nodded thoughtfully.

Sam glanced at the hunter with a slight frown. Something was bothering him ever since they returned from the meeting. "Why are you worried?", he looked into the round. "It doesn't sound bad. - If that's all they need?"

Dean looked at his partner. It was true, he didn't like the idea of federalizing with the angels.

"Well ..." Castiel spoke up, "... there's still a chance that it is some kind of trap. - Gadreel gave us nothing more but his word." He cleared his throat. "Besides ... Gadreel's the one who messed heaven and earth up in the first place. - Other than that he always had a good reputation."

"As good as it could be after thousands of years in an angel-dungeon.", Dean added snarky.

"So ... it's just a matter of trust?", Garth spoke up. "I can tell, that these guys weren't lying. - Angel or not, they would've smelled different. I'd say they were pretty desperate ..."

"It's not our choice.", he looked up at Jo and then at Sam beside him. "It's yours." Dean shifted and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You wanna try it – we'll do. If not, it's fine."

Jo and Sam shared a look. Jo gave him a short nod.

"I want the world to be a safe place again – at least as safe as it could possibly be. If there's a chance to get things settled again ... " He laid his hand on Dean's thigh and squeezed gently. He knew the hunter wouldn't like what he was going to say. "We should do it."

"We'll go together." Sam's statement was blunt and simple, not leaving any doubt in his determination.

Dean looked at him with something like worry in his eyes. He didn't want Sam to go with. Hell, he was uneasy with the fact that either one of Sam and Jo had to be there.

But the thought of, that something could probably go wrong and that Sam could be smack in the middle of it ... it was close to unbearable. On the other hand, he knew that he couldn't stop Sam from going with.

"I'll be your escape-emergency-plan." He smiled genuinely, letting the hazel-green orbs of his eyes gleam up in a bright blue-white. "If something goes wrong I'm gonna do that light-bulb-thing."

"You sure?" Because Dean wasn't. He was worried that it'd knock Sam out again, specially since he hadn't have the chance to try it again since back then.

"Maybe it's gonna knock me out for a couple of hours. - But I won't die because of it." He still smiled, looking into Dean's deep-green worried eyes. "You guys are there too ... You'll get me out of there when I've smoked them ... right?"

**Right.**

* * *

The second meeting didn't go down any different as the first one. It was calm and settled. They talked about the ritual and everything else.

Both sides agreed to come on the cemetery Dean had chosen. _W__ithout _weapons. 

What made the hunter and Gadreel a bit more easier. It seemed like both sides didn't trust the other one completely. There had just happened too much between them.

* * *

Dean groaned and tightened his grip around the hot furnace in his arms. Sam shifted slightly and nuzzled his face into the hunter's shoulder. Neither of them wanted to get out of bed just now.

But they had to.

The hunter ghosted with his fingers down Sam's back, making the younger man twitch and flinch away from his touch at first. It was then, when he reached the small of his back, that he did exactly the opposite.

Sam nipped and kissed the hunter's neck in return, his eyes still closed, his brain not even half way functional at all.

Dean traced with his fingers along the cleft of Sam's butt, causing goosebumps to grow all over his body. A soft moan fell from the younger man's lips, the warmth of his exhale against Dean's soft skin making him shudder.

"We need to get up, sweetheart." Dean's voice was still hoarse from sleep. "But when this's over, we'll get to have at least a week of sleep."

Sam just groaned in response. "Ten minutes? - I'll hurry up later ..."

Dean chuckled and peppered Sam's face with feather-light kisses. "Ten minutes."

_Fifteen_ _minutes_ later they got out of bed, brushed their teeth together, got dressed and went into the kitchen.

They definitely were the first ones up, so they decided to make breakfast together. Every now and then one bumped his hips against the others, nudged or got nudged and stole kisses.

While Sam threw their last eggs into the pan, Dean sliced the bread and prepared the dishes.

Soon their friends joined them, one after another. They even opened their last bottle of rasperry-syrup and brewed coffee.

Neither of them spoke a lot. It was like they were concentrating at the task before them. Just at the task before them and nothing else.

It was already late noon, when they stored their bags on the load-bed of Castiel's pickup truck. The angel hid three angel-blades under the passenger's seat – _just in case_. Maybe because they'd feel safer that way, since they weren't allowed to take them with (part of their deal with the angels).

Dusk settled over the land, when Castiel climbed behind the steering-wheel and Jo next to him on the passenger's seat. The rest of the pack settled down on the bed of the pickup for their short twenty-minutes drive to the cemetery.

Gladly they had a cover over the bed, so that the cold wind wouldn't bother them too much. They'd spend some quality time out there later anyway.

Kevin stayed behind, as he was one of the most precious beings (aka prophet) in the world. Besides he was their friend and barely able to defend himself, since he was more of a nerd than a fighter. Sure Dean had tried to teach him some things – but the prophet just wasn't made for fighting. He had two left hands when it came to weapons and combats.

Sam curled up into himself beside the hunter, leaning heavily against him all the way to their destination.

When the small group of friends finally arrived the long abandoned place, they instantly recognized two other vehicles. Yeah, even angels used to use these nowadays ...

When they got out of the car and from the bed and made their way through the iron-made portal of _Stull Cemetery_, the angels appeared in their line of vision in the middle of the holy ground. They had drawn a big sigil and in its middle was a wooden table with a brass-bowl, everything prepared for the earth-shattering event.

The angels turned around towards the newcomers and watched them carefully as they approached.

"Who's that?" Gadreel, the tall man with a leather jacket and grey-blue eyes eyed Sam suspiciously.

"Sam.", Dean stepped forward, gripping his lover's hand (what he usually would've never done, since he wasn't a chick and neither was _his_ Sammy). "He's our backup, has an eye on everything that goes on ..."

Sam and Jo shared a glance. The angels wouldn't know what he was. Not until it'd be too late. He was their escape-plan. The one and only they had.

So if anything would go wrong, he'd deep-fry everyone on the damn cemetery. (At least that was the plan.)

Still, Gadreel seemed to be suspicious about the young man on the hunter's side. He practically seemed to try to figure out what he should make out of it.

After a tense silence, Jo stepped forward. "So ... my turn?" She smiled.

"Yeah, guess we're ready. - Hopefully we got the time right." Gadreel glanced into the night-sky for a moment.

They looked at the full moon above them. It was a beautiful clear night with a whole lot of stars blinking down on them. Sam squeezed the hunter's hand. It'd have been an amazing time to spend together, just the two of them, on the hood of the Impala, covered with blankets ...

The angels kept wary eyes on the humans. The humans kept watchful glances on the angels.

They positioned themselves around the outer circle of the sigil, so did the angels.

Gadreel joined Joanna at the table, helping her to prepare the things that needed to be done before they'd be able to start.

All eyes were on them. It looked like either side was watching the other one's member warily. As if they were just waiting for either one to pull a knife and try to kill the other one.

But no such thing happened.  
Because they were fighting on the same side, even when they didn't trust each other. They were united in this. - And it probably had saved them from what was coming next, if they would've trusted each other a bit more ...

There was a whirr breaking the ultimate silence of the night, a faint puff of air slicing through the circle, not far from one of the angels, and a promising thud was heard.

The very next moment, Jo's back arched forward and she crumbled to the floor bonelessly.

"NO!", Castiel yelled, leaving his place on the outer circle. The angel dashed towards their friend and the other angel.

Gadreel whirled around, an angel-blade sliding from the sleeve of his jacket, gleaming dangerously in the silvery moonlight. His gaze darted into the darkness.

"Demons!", he snarled dangerously, as a second blade slid from the other sleeve. "Winchester!", the angel yelled and in the very moment he threw the weapon towards the hunter.

Dean caught it gracefully and pushed Sam down on his knees, he himself bowing protectively over him.

"Tombstone, now.", he hissed and practically shoved Sam forward until they had reached their coverage.

The hunter lurked around the stone, trying to check on his friends, trying to hear them. But all that was out there was shuffling and frantic yells and the whirring of arrows flying through the air.

A bright blue-white light illuminated the cemetery, as one of Gadreel's angels got hit by an arrow right in the heart.

Castiel fell to his knees beside Jo, shielding her body with his, as he cradled the prone body in his arms. "Jo?"

There was no response.

Her eyes were closed, blood seeping rabidly fast through the fabric, where the arrow had digged into her flesh in her chest. There was no sign of life. No breathing. No pulse.

She was dead.

Tears filled Castiel's ever so blue eyes and he gazed up at Gadreel in the same moment, he glanced down at the both of them. An expression of deep sorrow written all over his face.

"Demons, brother.", Gadreel whispered. "You got your blade?"

Castiel needed a minute to understand. But then he shook his head. "The deal was no weapons. - So we came without them.", he talked in regret.

The taller angel cursed.

"We've them in our car." Castiel's voice broke, as he couldn't suppress a painful sob. "I have to go, get the blades ... Dean's knife." He couldn't stop the tears right then. "We've to protect Sam ..."

Gadreel looked down at his brother with a mix of confusion and surprise and finally _realization_. The brothers shared a knowing look.

"Go.", was all that Gadreel said.

* * *

Dean was relieved that the stone was big enough to give the both of them cover.

Sam looked up at him with a worried and frightened frown. "We need to lure the demons out of the woods ..."

Dean knew exactly what Sam wanted to say. He didn't need to finish his sentence. The demons had to get out of their covers, so that the nephilim could deep-fry them.

"And we've to warn the angels and Cas ...", Sam muttered, ducking further behind the stone as an arrow whirred through the air beside it.

"You sure?" Dean didn't want Sam to try anything. It was too dangerous. They didn't know how many demons were out there ... nor did they have any weapons except the angel-blade. "We can try to get through them, get back to the bunker, lay low for a while and try it again ... somewhere else ..."

Sam's eyebrows narrowed. "No." It was definite. "I want to do that. - I want some sort of balance back. And if we're the only ones that are able to do that, I'm in."

Dean swallowed around the building lump in his throat, c losing his eyes for a brief moment. "Okay. - But you keep your head down."

Sam gave him a sharp nod. "I've memorized the spell with Jo. - I can do this, Dean."

A soft smile played on Dean's lips. "I know you can, baby boy.", he whispered and gave him a lingering kiss on the forehead.

The very next moment a body slumped down before them. Gadreel ducked down, his eyes a liquid mass of fury. His look lingered on Sam for a long moment.

"Castiel said, we need to take care of Sam. - What's your plan, hunter?", the angel asked, the grip around his blade tightening.

"We _did_ _have_ a plan. - In case you would trick us." Sam spoke up with an embarrassed smile. "It'd still work. - We just need the other angels to know, that they gotta hide somewhere ... when I'll give a sign."

Gadreel frowned, but nodded.

"And the demons have to come out ...", Dean added, "Or it won't work."

"Okay ... we'll work on that." Gadreel sniffed, reaching for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up. A small black button was there, out of wich a thin wire came and disappeared inside the shirt. "Anthriel, Eiael, Naphriel, Ophiel", he talked into it.

Sam and Dean looked at each other and then at the angel. First shocked that they have been kind of tricked and though relieved that at least one side hadn't intended to play fair.

All angels except one answered.

"Get the demons _on_ the cemetery." Gadreel shared looks with the hunter and the nephilim. "We're going to finish the ritual."

"You do what you gotta do. - I'll be your rear-cover, as soon as my men have the demons in the open. They can't use their arrows when it comes to a hand to hand fight." Gadreel checked on the both with a determined look.

Both nodded.

Complete silence lay over the yard for a few moments. No more arrows slicing through the air. Then Gadreel's microphone roared back to life. "We're ready.", the angel said.

"Altar.", Dean said and tugged on Sam's jacket. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be ...", Sam answered and blew out a breath, managing a slight smile.

Then they took off towards the center of the sigil. They saw the angels and their friends fighting against at least a dozen of narrowing black-eyed-bastards.

There was a lone duffel not far away from where Castiel was throwing himself at three demons that were in their way.

Sam hurried to get the herbs into the bowl, Dean and Gadreel now somewhere on the battlefield, trying to hold the demons away from him.

Then there was a sudden shift in the air, barely noticable. And the very next moment, Dean and the angel found themselves airborne. Flying across the holy yard and landing somewhere far off from the altar.

"Dean!", Sam yelled as he whirred around, just to see as the Winchester landed about twenty yards away to his left side.

Torn between hurrying to Dean's side and going on with the ritual he cursed. He needed to finish the ritual and deep-fry the demons. Otherwise none of them would leave the cemetery alive. The demons were too many ... - Then he'd be able to care about Dean.

Though he could do it right now, eliminating the demons ...

He cursed again and spun around, facing back at the altar before him.

With shaky hands, Sam lightened the matches and burned the herbs, never looking around. Instead he concentrated on the task at hand, trusted the foreign angel and his lover to have his back.

The _others_ would have his back, would keep his ass save.

The ingredients in the bowl burned down within seconds. Meanwhile Sam reached for the chalk and drew a sigil on the wooden surface of the table before him, muttering enochian words while he did so.

* * *

Dean tried to reach him, fighting off the damn bastards that tried to get in his way. Though, two demons against one was quite unfair. And while he fought for the upper hand to get back at Sam's side where he belonged to, he stole short glances at the nephilim.

Just then, when he thought he had defeated his opponents and wanted to take off towards Sam, he saw one of those black-eyed bitches coming up at his lover from behind.

He took off into a sprint, and just saw how the demon laid his hand on Sam's shoulder, when he got tackled and thrown to the ground, with a heavy weight upon him.

A pair of obsidian eyes stared at the hunter from above.

* * *

Sam dared to glance around, trying to catch a glimpse of Dean. And he did. - He tried to get two demons down that blocked his way to Sam and the altar. For a short moment they had eye-contact. A moment that said more than words ever could. The hunter was telling him to carry on, no matter what. To finish what they had started.

He hurried to empty the burned ingredients in the middle of the sigil and reached for the dagger, as a strong hand landed on his shoulder and he got torn away from the altar and pulled backwards.

More like a reflex than anything else, Sam turned out of the grip and spun around, sinking the dagger deep into the foreigner man's guts.

Rather surprised, the guy stared up at him, his eyes flashing red for a split second.

In the very moment he buried his knife into the man's stomach and something dug into his. A searing pain lanced through him, robbing all the air from his lungs. Sam staggered backwards, bumping against the altar behind him.

The creature's eyes flashed red once more in the light of the full moon, a mischievous grin playing on its face. Of course the damn dagger wasn't meant to kill demons – so yeah, the bastard lived, keeping its vessel together.

The thick-set guy brushed over his black coat with his hands, while he cleared his throat, quite amused. He sniffed and rolled with his eyes as he looked back up and fixed Sam with his brown eyes.

Still in a haze of pain and the realization what just had happened, Sam covered the offspring of the pain, right beside his navel and looked down on himself in disbelieve. He paled as he pulled his hand away, wich was shining with red crimson in the damp light.

Blood was soaking relentlessly fast through his fabric and he swayed. A split moment later, Sam's features changed. He smiled slyly at the beast before him, raising his hand, so that the bastard could see the blood glistening on it.

"COVER NOW!", Sam yelled growling.

Seconds later everything seemed to happen at the same moment.

Silence fell over the cemetery. For a moment nothing was heard. All attention was drawn to the one left nephilim among them. Eyes – those of his friends, of the angels and the demons ... and a pair of big emerald-green ones pierced through the cool night-air in his direction.

Sam spun around and threw his flat blood-covered palm into the middle of the drawn sigil.

Lightning and Thunder were seen and heard at the very moment. The skies above the cemetery opened and there was rain all of a sudden. Dashing down onto the ground.

Sam swept his head around, making sure that his friends and the angels got the hint, and then his hazel-green orbs lit up in a blinding white-blue light. His gaze glued for a long moment at the hunter, who kneeled over a demon, the blade sunken in its throat, his hand still on the blade's hilt.

What started in the nephilim's eyes, soon had conquered his whole form and then there was nothing but dazzling light, and pained cries.

And the rain kept falling down, as the light slowly subsided.

There was absolute silence. Just the sound of raindrops hitting stone and ground, the sizzling noise of water hitting blazing remains of human hosts.

* * *

Dean stumbled over the muddy ground towards the altar, the familiar looking form on the ground before it not moving. The hunter couldn't even make out any kind movement. Not even if he was still breathing ...

Rain ran down his face, soaking his already heavy leather-jacket and dirty jeans. Dean Winchester ignored the icy cold that was creeping up his limbs.

All that counted was SAM. To check on him, know that he was alive. That he was still breathing and just needed a couple of days to regain his strength.

Dean threw himself, knees first, on the ground beside the prone body. He laid his hands tentatively on him.

"Sammy." It barely more than a whimper. "Sweetheart."

He carefully reached for the head and eased his palm under it, turning Sam's face up. "Sam. - Can you hear me?"

It was too dark to see if Sam's eyes were open ... but what he could see was, that Sam was pale, and that there was a dark fluid seeping out from the corner his mouth. Frantically the hunter started to search Sam's neck for a pulse.

After agonizing long moments he finally managed capture a weak thumbing rhythm against his fingertips.

The hunter frowned, his eyes narrowing. He tugged Sam onto his back, laying him flat on the wet ground. There was nothing to make out in the darkness and the shadows of the altar.

Dean cursed again, running his hands all over Sam's head, neck and body. But even if he was bleeding somewhere ... he wouldn't see. The younger man's clothes were soaked through to the skin.

"Damn it ...", and a row of other curses fell from the hunter's lips. "Sammy ... you gotta talk to me, baby boy. - Say something, anything. _Please_ ... I need to know that you're okay ..."

But there was nothing.

A giant wet wolf appeared at Dean's side, whimpering and whining. The animal started to push his wet snout against the damp fabric of Sam's jacket. Dean immediately reacted at the dog's behaviour and started to feel along Sam's stomach under the ribs and solar plexus ... and then he found what he had hoped he wouldn't.

It was warm and slick ... and so did not feel like rain ... _blood_.

"Shit." Dean raised his hand up, so that he'd have a better look at it and his eyes widened, when he saw the red fluid, mingled with rain. "_No .. no no no_ ... Sam?" His voice shook, so did his hands all of a sudden.

The hunter stripped down his jacket and the plaid shirt underneath. He then pressed the bundle of wet fabric on Sam's belly.

Dean wanted to turn around and order the werewolf to get the car there – pronto. But he didn't have to. The very moment he saw red and white tail-lights beaming up behind spare light showed how much red there actually was ... how ashen Sam already was ...

His ribcage tightened, making it unable for him to breathe. "Sammy, _please_, Baby – open your eyes, _please_ ..."

Deep down Dean knew that a wound like this one was deadly. Even if Sam'd open his eyes ... it'd be his last time. THEIR last time they'd see each other.

Whatever hat hit him down there ... it had eventually punctured his intestines. And he was loosing so much blood ... TOO much blood.

No matter if they'd get him to the bunker in time ... none of them was a surgeon. None of them was capable to fix this. _No one._

"_No no no _... please. _Sammy_." The hunter didn't even know what he was begging for ... that he'd open his eyes? That he'd stay unconscious so he wouldn't feel a damn thing while dying? That a miracle would happen and Sam'd be fixed and back on his feet?

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tightly ... buried his face in Sam's chest, as he cradled the younger man in his arms desperately.

And eventually Sam's eyes fluttered open. Eventually his lips moved, his face screwed up in pain.

"D'n.", he breathed. _Oh god, it hurt. - It hurt so bad. _

The hunter rose his head, tears mingled with rain. "Sammy.", he sobbed, "Hey, Sammy." He managed a small smile.

Garth was beside the hunter with a thick blanket, wrapping it around Sam's legs and lower torso. The wolf did know what was going to happen – what they couldn't stop.

"Love you.", the wounded man muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

Dean suppressed another sob, holding Sam tighter. "I love you too, baby boy." Oh god ... why did those things continued to happen? Was everyone in his life damned to die? Everyone?

Sam shivered, his legs shifting slightly under the blanket. "... so cold ..."

"I know, sweetheart. - I know. It's going to get real warm in no time." Dean still smiled, though it was a lie. And he knew it.

The both of them knew it.

"You stay?", Sam's eyes seemed so clear, so focused all of a sudden. As if he saw the whole world for what it was. "Until it's over?"

Those words cut like razor-sharp knives into the hunter's heart.

"Yeah, baby boy. - Not goin' anywhere." Dean swallowed hard, tears streaming down his face and dropping on Sam's. "Promise. - I'll stay. I'll stay with you."

He bowed down over his lover. His friend. His mate. And laid his lips over Sam's, letting them linger there. Saying Hi and Goodbye at once. Saying so much more with that gesture than either of them could capture into words in that little time they had left.

Sam's lips curled up into a warm smile, while his body went lax ... and his eyes fluttered shut.

_... to be continued_

* * *

**i don't to deathfics (just for the record) :) ... what a bad cliffhanger, huh? :P **

**can't wait for your awesome reviews about THAT :)**


	30. Chapter 30 Dead To The World

_**The End Of Days**_

_**Chapter 30 ~ Dead to the World**_

THEN:

_"Yeah, baby boy. - Not goin' anywhere." Dean swallowed hard, tears streaming down his face and dropping on Sam's. "Promise. - I'll stay. I'll stay with you."_

_He bowed down over his lover. His friend. His mate. And laid his lips over Sam's, letting them linger there. Saying Hi and Goodbye at once. Saying so much more with that gesture than either of them could capture into words in that little time they had left._

_Sam's lips curled up into a warm smile, while his body went lax ... and his eyes fluttered shut._

* * *

NOW:

It was cold.

Though, the fire of the pyre warmed the small group of men a bit ...

It wasn't much they could do. Nothing that would make their lost ones whole again ...

Castiel, Garth, Kevin and Dean stood just two yards away from it, as they watched the flames lick over the bandaged body, claiming him slowly.

It wasn't the sight before them, nor the scent of burning flesh, that let tears well up in the men's eyes.

It was because of their loss. The fact that whatever they might have tried, or might have made different, it wouldn't have changed a bit ... Fate was a bitch.

Dean stood there. His face pale and covered in scruff. His green eyes empty, red-rimmed and dull. His expression blank.

They were just half a mile away from the bunker, somewhere in the woods. He had walked out there long after his friends had prepared the funeral. And now ... _now_ that he saw the body burn ...

No, Dean Winchester couldn't.

He couldn't stand there, when he was needed elsewhere.

THIS wasn't his place to be. He had said his Goodbyes hours ago ... on the cemetery. Wouldn't it have been for Cas, he wouldn't stand there, wouldn't watch the body burn ... the hunter wouldn't have gone with them ...

He couldn't do this all over again. Couldn't watch the definite end, where there shouldn't be one.

So he tilted his head down, staring at his – still muddy – boots and turned around on his heels. Neither one of the men said a word. They just let the hunter be, let him return to the bunker, where he'd be save. Where his purpose was waiting for him.

Dean didn't bother to pull off his shoes, when he entered the bunker. Hell, he hadn't even noticed yet, that he hadn't changed his clothes. There was still dried blood – _Sam's_ _blood_. Smeared all over his jeans, shirt and leather-jacket. He'd never get that stains out of them. Ever.

He high likely would get rid of them ... burn them or whatever.

Maybe all of this would be worth it at the end. Maybe the angels would keep their word and would help humanity out of their misery like they had been supposed to ever since. Maybe – for once – the deaths wouldn't have been for nothing ...

* * *

Dean entered Sam's former room and looked around thoughtfully, before he pulled off his boots and socks. The hunter then tore the dirty and still damp fabric from himself, letting it fall in a heap on the floor beside the bed.

Naked as he was, he patted through the room, sore and too done to think about anything else of getting the shower over with and dressed again. He couldn't get into HIS room just yet. And this one? Sam's room held so many memories. Good and bad ones.

Though he wouldn't like to change a simple thing. Because this was, what made them who they were.

So he took a fast hot shower and got dressed in the clothes he had prepared before he had headed outdoors.

Dean didn't take his time to shave, nor to pull on socks or his slippers.

He needed to get into his bed, the only place he truly belonged to right now. Nonetheless he hesitated before opening the door to his bedroom. Afraid of what he might find.

When he finally found the balls to push the handle down and open the door, he was greeted with the same picture as he had left the room two hours ago.

Gadreel sat in the chair beside the bed. One angel sitting on the cupboard on the wall furthest from the bed, one directly beside the door and one leaned against the bathroom-door. The four of them looked at the tired hunter and shared short glances with him.

The Winchester sniffed and rubbed over his face tiredly, before his gaze landed on the bed.

There was the slow rise and fall of the blankets, under wich a long form was buried and who was completely unaware of what had happened the past hours ever since they were back from Stull Cemetery.

For the first time in his live he thanked the angels, was grateful that they had been there. Because without them, this day would've gotten a lot worse. If they hadn't been there when they were, Sam would've died out there. In his arms. - just like that.

And the hunter would have ended his life right then. Because there wouldn't have been a single reason left for him to live. Not like that.

He gave the angels a thankful nod for having a watch over his chunk of heaven. Gadreel nodded back at him and rose from the chair.

In the very next beat of his heart, they were gone. The noise of fluttering wings was heard and the room was empty again.

Just him and Sam.

He was thankful that they came out of it like that.

Dean exhaled audibly. The angels had done what they had been able to, to save Sam.

Now he lay there, on his side, still unconscious ... or simply asleep. The wound in Sam's stomach was gone, his skin had its color back – mostly.

Even if the angels seemed stronger now, there was still the fact that they hadn't all their mojo back yet.

So the hunter went to the bed and pulled the covers back ... just enough for him to sneak under them and settle under the thick layers. He inched closer to the prone form beside him – ever so carefully. Dean took exquisite care to be gentle and careful, as he wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him closer. Pulled him so close, so that Sam's back was flush against his chest.

"You're going to be fine, baby boy.", Dean whispered, nuzzling his nose into the soft mop of hair. - Or at least so the angels had said. That he'd come around. That he'd wake up as soon as he was ready.

The hunter laid his hand over Sam's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the strong heartbeat beneath his palm.

"You're all I have, Sammy. - I thought I've lost you ..." Dean still couldn't believe that Sam was still with him. That he was – in fact – alive and breathing and WITH HIM.

For long minutes he had thought he had lost him for good.

Dean inhaled Sam's scent deeply, trying to memorize every nuance of it. "I'm _never_ _again_ letting you do something stupid like that. - Not by a long shot, baby. Not by a long shot."

* * *

Dean cradled the unconscious form in his arms closer. Whispering tender words of gentleness into his ear, stroking his head and face ever so softly. The hunter held onto HIS man the entire time. He wouldn't let go. Until he fell asleep.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Sam awoke slowly. It was some time during the night. The generators were out and the air was chilly. Though he felt the warmth surrounding him under the covers, felt another body behind him, arms around him.

It wasn't much longer than that, that Sam drifted off to sleep, not able to hold onto conciousness any longer. Not able to let Dean know that he had woken up, that he was practically back from the dead.

The very next morning, the both of them lay as Dean had fallen asleep at Sam's side. The hunter was groaning silently, on the borders of awakening.

As the hunter shifted and pulled back a bit from his lover, Sam shifted too. First the hunter didn't notice it. But then it hit him like lightning.

"Sammy?" He was awake with one big stride.

A low sleepy moan was heard from the younger man.

"Sammy, you with me?" Dean turned Sam around in his arms on his back, laying a hand on Sam's cheek. "Sweetheart?"

The younger man's lips parted and his eyelids fluttered, as if he was going to say something.

It was a short fight, but though, for Dean it felt like eternity.

"Hey." Sam's eyes fluttered open lazily. A small smile tugging on his lips.

Dean didn't respond. At least not verbally. Instead he leaned forward over Sam and brushed with his lips over Sam's tentatively, testing if he wanted to ... if he was up to kissing.

And Sam was. Hell. Sam so was up for kissing. He instantly responded, tilted his head to the side, so that Dean had better access and their noses wouldn't come in the way.

The hunter's hand found its way over Sam's belly where he had been stabbed, cradling the flannel in his hand.

Sam muttered something into the kiss.

"What?", Dean said, muffled by Sam's lips.

Again, Sam muttered something.

Dean pulled off. "What'd you say, baby boy?" A tender smile on his lips.

"Always wanted to see the grand Canyon, Dean." He blinked big dazed hazel-eyes up at him. "Can we do that? - Some time soon?"

Dean looked down at him surprised. "Grand Canyon.", he repeated, as if he was thinking about it. "Grand Canyon?" His voice high-pitched. "You just came back to me. - You gotta rest, stay in bed. There are still walkers out there ... other monsters ..."

Sam chuckled. "Not now, Dean." He sounded tired. "When we're better ... When ..."

"Shush." The hunter laid his pointing finger over Sam's lips. "Shut up, Sammy.", he whispered.

* * *

_Stull Cemetery ... the night before ... _

The rain had subside. The earth was still mushy and there were water-puddles all over. The human remains, that looked like chicken-wings that looked like they had been too long in boiling oil, had cooled down.

They were nothing more but crusty black meat-sticks.

All except _one_ ... _one_ that seemed to shiver and tremble. A body that was meant to rot, twitched and jolted on the wet ground. Meat was growing back together, burnt flesh was falling off and was renewed through red strands of muscles and pink skin.

Dark brown-green eyes stared at the full moon above him.

The man's lips parted slightly and there were white teeth and black-red lips that let the first inhale of oxygen return into the human's vessel. His eyes rolled back in the sockets and they flashed red, as he cried out an agonized yell. Calling out to the entourage of hell.

* * *

_One Year Later ... _

Dean popped the trunk open and threw two duffels in it.

Sam had already taken his place in the passenger's seat of the Impala, waiting for Dean to get in.

When he did, Sam beamed at him brightly.

They had said their good-byes upstairs already ... since none of them was very good at it. They'd be back in a month or two anyway. So no reason to say giant good byes.

Dean slid behind the steering-wheel and shot Sam a mug grin. "Ready to hit the road, Baby?"

Sam chuckled, turning away to hide his flushed cheeks. It was adorable how Sam reacted to pet-names. - Dean could do that all day – even after a whole year.

So many things had changed. The walkers were gone. The gates of heaven were back open again. Castiel and all the other angels had their mojo back. And though ... The little time-out upstairs hadn't brought anything.

Except that the balance between good and bad had been fully re-constituted again.

"So ... Grand Canyon it is?", Dean asked, as he turned the ignition and the Impala's engine roared to life.

"Grand Canyon." Sam smiled at his hunter softly.

Dean laid his hand on Sam's thigh and squeezed gently, before he pulled the car out of the garage.

* * *

_One year, three days, two hours and thirty-two minutes earlier ..._

The fire of the pyre had long died, but the ashes and remains were still blazing.

There stood a man in a black coat, his eyes gleaming in the darkest of reds, as he stared at the ashes, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his black coat.

Single flakes of the blazing remains and ashes lifted from the pyre into the darkness of the night, slowly but surely forming a shape.

Intestines and bones were building what looked like a human form.

Flesh and skin was growing over the petite skeleton of a female body.

Blonde hair was growing.

As she stepped from the remains of the fire, the red-eyed crossroads-demon with green-brown eyes smiled satisfied.

Big brown eyes smiled up at the demon as she stood there before him.

"I'm home, daddy.", Jo said warmly, her eyes filling with dark red and light blue strands of energy ...

**~ THE END ~**

* * *

_that's it, folks. I hope you enjoyed the story & had fun reading it. _

_I'd be very grateful for some BACON, you know? _

**THANK YOU TO ALL THE REVIEWERS, FAVORITES & FOLLOWERS**

here we go with the teaser for my next story:

STORM'S LAST SEASON

AU, unrelated!wincest, alpha!beta!omega!dynamics, hunter!alpha!dean, broken!omega!sam, alpha!sonny, beta!bobby, mentions!of!abuse!(maybe)rape!torture, rated!M!for!a!reason, salvage!fic, graphic!sexual!content!ahead, top!dean, bottom!sam, love!story, porn!with!plot


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